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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28744446">Kaika</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiko009/pseuds/Reiko009'>Reiko009</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Blood, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Gay, Hanahaki Disease, Homosexuality, Language of Flowers, M/M, Magic, Pining, Secrets, Self-Acceptance, Taboo, Terminal Illnesses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:01:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>28,909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28744446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiko009/pseuds/Reiko009</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Linhardt develops Hanahaki and he has resigned himself to his inevitable fate. But he can only keep his secret hidden so long before other people find out. Everyone, Linhardt included, is surprised by the depth of feeling the sleepy young man is capable of. His friends do their best to convince him to fight back, even as the disease slowly overtakes him. But it might already be too late.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Caspar von Bergliez &amp; Linhardt von Hevring, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Taking Root – Great Tree Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>[AUTHOR’S NOTE: I like the idea of Hanahaki. It is both a beautiful and tragic concept to work with, especially when considering the stigma surrounding same-sex relationships in our society. In my previous stories in the Fire Emblem Three Houses universe, I haven’t really touched on this much because in the game it seems to be a non-issue. However, for how much significance bearing children with crests is for the nobility of Fodlan as well as how averse to outside influence and cultural change they have become, I believe this stigma would – sadly – still exist. I have adjusted the existing lore about the disease a little for the sake of the story. I hope you enjoy.]</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Linhardt just understood magic – or White Magic at least.</p><p>From a young age it just sort of clicked in his head and quickly became a strong framework for his further development. White Magic was all about creating or restoring order. It was logical.</p><p>It had nothing to do with <em>faith</em> – no matter how much his tutors insisted otherwise.</p><p>White Magic was completely dependent on the wielder’s knowledge and willpower. But it wasn’t just about wishing for something – it required an energy sacrifice equal to the attempted task. Of course, there were ways to bend the rules with cyclical relays, not unlike how a pully system provided laborers a mechanical advantage, but the more complex the spell the harder it was to concentrate on all its component parts.</p><p>Mental fatigue was something he had tried to explain to people in the past – but like most everything else in his life, it simply just took too much effort. Linhardt used magic by himself all the time, so it was easier to just accept it when people called him lazy.</p><p>His father didn’t use magic at all.</p><p>Linhardt loved his father, even if the two of them didn’t always understand one another. He recognized his father’s suggestions to cut his hair short or to develop his skills with a ‘real’ weapon for a change were kindly meant. Other children were quick to point out those within the group that didn’t belong.</p><p>He got his first black eye when he was nine. That’s how Linhardt learned that he couldn’t perform healing magic on himself. An already broken system couldn’t cheat the natural order of things from within.</p><p>After that it was just easier to avoid conflict – but this also meant generally avoiding other people altogether. The only person near his age that still actively sought him out was Caspar.</p><p>Caspar was everything that Linhardt wasn’t – excitable, impulsive, and devoted to physical achievements. It was a marvel that they were friends at all.</p><p>They sometimes joked that the two of them bonded as sort of a rebellion against their parents who didn’t get along despite having to work so closely with one another. But Linhardt wondered if the real reason was because Caspar didn’t have a crest of his own and had an older brother that was set to inherit everything. In a way, Linhardt was jealous – he had no such luxury. With his minor Crest of Saint Cethleann, there were far too many expectations on him as the heir to the Hevring name and estate. It was inevitable that he would have to own up to them, he supposed – but not yet.</p><p>Just then he was on his way to Garreg Mach monastery to enroll in the Officer’s Academy. One whole year in which he could do whatever he wanted! He would be far away from his father’s rather pointed suggestions and the constant reminders of how the rest of his life was going to unfold.</p><p>And best of all, Caspar would be there too.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>During the first few days of classes Manuela learned quickly that Linhardt had absolutely zero interest in being a model student – no matter how smart he was. But she was an unusual professor. Instead of harping on him for not upholding what most would consider standard scholastic expectations, she asked him straight out what he <em>was</em> interested in learning from her.</p><p>There turned out to be quite a lot actually. And for what questions Linhardt posed that she couldn’t answer, she referred him to Professor Hanneman who led the Blue Lion class. The stone-faced leader of the third class, the Golden Deer, was a newcomer – and while he was intriguing, Byleth was also a puzzle Linhardt would just have to solve some other time.</p><p>Things were going far better than Linhardt could have hoped.</p><p>
  <em>That is, until – quite suddenly – they weren’t.</em>
</p><p>It started out with a slight tickle in his throat. An itch. It was almost indistinguishable from the realization that a cold might be coming on. Except… it persisted for days. Linhardt never actually got sick, but the feeling that something just wasn’t right lingered. He was going to ignore it – reasoning that his body was probably just adjusting to the difference in altitude. Garreg Mach was in the mountains after all.</p><p>It was only the end of the third week at the monastery. He was lying in the grass under a tree after class had ended, absently rubbing his chest and slipping into a doze when it happened. Linhardt began coughing. But it wasn’t a normal cough.</p><p>His lungs… <em>fluttered</em>. Something needed to come out.</p><p>Choking, he rolled over in the dirt and watched in horrible fascination as eventually, several snow-white petals fell from his lips. They were still slightly damp.</p><p>The strange feeling in his chest had abated some, but it hadn’t gone away completely. Whatever had just occurred wasn’t the end of something but the beginning. Linhardt carefully gathered up the petals into his handkerchief to study later. They were small and sort of round – and most certainly did not belong.</p><p>He was too fascinated to be scared.</p><p>And because Linhardt was used to doing these sorts of things on his own, he went straight to the library. He knew exactly where all of the tomes on curses and magical ailments were kept. Soon his arms were full of the most promising texts. But carrying them back to his room proved to be a bit too ambitious.</p><p>“<em>Woah</em>… Linhardt – do you need a hand with those?” Caspar asked when he passed him on the stairs. He was smiling down at Linhardt instead of looking up for a change.</p><p>Predictably, Linhardt had become too tired with his armload of books and had set them all down on the steps next to him so that he could sit down and catch his breath. “What are you doing here, Caspar?”</p><p>He didn’t mean to sound rude – but it was unusual for Caspar to be found indoors on such a nice day.</p><p>“Just dropping off my report to Professor Manuela. Ferdinand and I were assigned to weeding the gardens this week for our additional task, remember?” Answered Caspar as he picked up more than half of Linhardt’s stack of books.</p><p>Reluctantly, Linhardt gathered up the rest and followed his friend downstairs. “Oh… right.” He hadn’t remembered – nor could he recall what <em>he</em> had been assigned to do. Whoever his own partner had been this week probably wasn’t very pleased with him.</p><p>“This is a lot of books, Lin. Found something new to research?” Caspar asked, still far too chipper.</p><p>He nodded. “Something like that.”</p><p>Caspar never seemed to mind that Linhardt didn’t always answer his questions fully. Explaining magic or crest research to Caspar was just too much effort – so his friend had learned not to pry any more than Linhardt was willing to share.</p><p>“Ferdinand doesn’t like to get dirty, so I handled most of it. I told him to wear something he didn’t mind getting stained with mud and grass, but he said he didn’t own anything like that. Not that I should be surprised – even his training gear is starched white.” Caspar kept blabbering.</p><p>Linhardt didn’t mind Caspar talking – because he didn’t expect an answer most of the time.</p><p>“I’m willing to bet that it won’t be long before he’ll realize how ridiculous he’s being. And next time I’m paired with him he’s going to owe me – big time.” Caspar laughed.</p><p>They were nearing their rooms now. He and Caspar had traded places their first night at the Academy so that Linhardt could be on the ground floor – for which he was very grateful.</p><p>“So, where do you want these? Your desk looks pretty full.” Asked Caspar after Linhardt opened the door. And it was true, Linhardt realized.</p><p>“Oh… anywhere is fine.” He shrugged. “Except on my bed.” He quickly amended seeing how Caspar was about to drop them there. Books made sleeping in it uncomfortable.</p><p>Caspar picked a corner of the floor instead. “I thought the library limited us to five items at a time.” He looked around Linhardt’s room – despite being so early in the term, it was already covered in books.</p><p>Again, Linhardt just shrugged. “Most students don’t even check out any. I figure that I sort of balance everything out.”</p><p>Caspar laughed. “Well, I certainly don’t get any, so I guess I don’t mind if you take my share. But seriously – shouldn’t you return some of these?”</p><p>“I’m too tired.” Linhardt yawned – he didn’t even bother covering his mouth.</p><p>Caspar shook his head. “Then how about I take some back for you? Which one’s are you done with?”</p><p>Linhardt guessed that Caspar was just looking for some heavy lifting. He was so obsessed with growing bigger and stronger. Sometimes Linhardt wondered if it was all that healthy. “Anything on fishing can go. The selection of fish from the lake here apparently isn’t all that different from back home.”</p><p>“Got it.” Caspar began scanning all of the piles on Linhardt’s desk.</p><p>Suddenly Linhardt coughed again. No petals came out this time, but it reminded him what he was so keen to research.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Caspar turned back to ask, genuine concern in his voice.</p><p>Linhardt waved his worries away. “Oh, I’m fine. Some of these volumes are rather dusty – that’s all.” The lie slipped easily from his lips and thankfully, Caspar bought it.</p><p>Soon enough Caspar had an armful of books to take back to the library and Linhardt was left alone.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>He didn’t find the answer he was looking for that night – or the next day even.</p><p>Linhardt was stumped. Besides their obviously magical origin, as far as he could tell what he had coughed up were just ordinary flower petals. While they started out velvety soft, before long they were dry and shriveled – breaking easily if Linhardt didn’t handle them with exceptional care. He had found a small glass jar to keep them all in until he knew more. He remembered reading somewhere that sometimes to reverse a curse you needed whatever was being conjured.</p><p>Although, most of the curses he looked up were for far more dangerous and painful sounding things than flower petals. And curses usually left some sort of mark or brand – so he quickly dismissed the idea.</p><p>Magical ailments were more promising – and far more fascinating. There were so many that still had no discernable cause – let alone a cure. He was beginning to wonder if whatever he had was something altogether new. The next week flew past with Linhardt sleeping through classes and staying up late into the night reading. He coughed up a few more petals during that time, but otherwise nothing else happened.</p><p>But then another thought came to him. <em>What if it was contagious?</em></p><p>He sent Cyril off with a short message to Manuela that he was under the weather and was going to remain in his room for the next day or two. He didn’t even have to pretend to cough to make it sound convincing, and Cyril was always happy for more work.</p><p>Linhardt was grateful, even if he didn’t understand the young Almyran very well. Just like Caspar, the boy was always trying a little too hard – so he suspected that there were some horrible feelings of inadequacy beneath it all.</p><p>
  <em>It was odd how Linhardt seemed to pick up on things like that.</em>
</p><p>…</p><p>Safe and alone in his room again – he finally found a lead as to what it was.</p><p>It was a small book – and he had only grabbed it because it was in the same section as the others. There were illustrations inside that made Linhardt nauseous – which was why he had saved it towards the end. It was a collection of post-mortem examinations on bodies that had been altered by magic. It was the only depiction of a corpse Linhardt could stand to look at without feeling horribly ill.</p><p>She was young and kind of pretty. She had long, dark hair and looked rather peaceful instead of tortured or painfully disfigured as many of the others in the book were. Someone had cut open her chest, from which grew some kind of flowering tree. It had completely overtaken her lungs and her throat – and blossoms were emerging from her open mouth.</p><p>Linhardt found himself staring at the image in morbid curiosity.</p><p>It was the only thing that came close. The book said she had succumbed to something called ‘Hanahaki’ but otherwise wasn’t very helpful – merely describing the unusual cause of asphyxiation that was already apparent from the disturbing image.</p><p>“<em>Hey!</em> Linhardt – are you awake in there? Manuela asked me to check-up on you.” Caspar yelled from the other side of his door.</p><p>Linhardt slammed the book shut, embarrassed. But he didn’t reply.</p><p>“Come on, Lin. Did you even have breakfast? I bet I can ask the cooks to warm up some broth for you at least.” Caspar yelled again.</p><p>“I’m… not hungry.” Linhardt finally answered. And he wasn’t.</p><p>Caspar sighed. “Okay. But I’ll come back after training just in case, alright?”</p><p>“That’s… fine.” Linhardt just wanted him to leave.</p><p>After a few moments of silence, it seemed that Caspar had gone. A wave of fatigue hit Linhardt then. When had he slept last? Last night… or had it been the night before that? The stack of heavy tomes he had gone through in search of an answer was a lot taller than it had been last he had checked.</p><p>Linhardt crawled into his bed and tried to get the illustration from the book out of his mind. It was probably… something else. He just needed to look harder. But he could try again later.</p><p>Sleep claimed him quickly – but his mind still worried itself into knots.</p><p>…</p><p>“Linhardt!”</p><p>It took a moment for Linhardt to realize that Caspar’s voice wasn’t a dream.</p><p>He rolled over and actually tried to listen to what the young man was saying – or rather yelling – quite loudly on the other side of his door.</p><p>“Seriously, Lin. I just finished training with Raphael – if you don’t think I can break down this door you’ve got another thing coming.” Caspar banged his fists rather loudly on it again.</p><p>How Linhardt had slept through all of the noise Caspar was making, he had no idea.</p><p>“It’s unlocked, you idiot. Just come in.” He managed to croak out.</p><p>After a few second’s pause, Caspar jiggled the handle. It opened. He looked a little sheepish when he peeked inside. “You could have said something like five minutes ago.”</p><p>“I was asleep.” Linhardt got out of his bed wearily. There were a couple white petals on his pillow. He brushed them away hurriedly.</p><p>Caspar didn’t seem to notice that anything was amiss. “Well, I figured that much. But I was also starting to wonder if you were in trouble. Manuela said you were sick. While you… uh… definitely don’t look your <em>best</em> – it seems like I was getting worried for nothing. Sorry.”</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “No… thank you for checking in on me. What time is it, anyway?”</p><p>“I was just about to go to dinner. Well… after I clean up a bit, that is.” He was still wearing his training gear and looked a little worse for wear. If he had been sparring with Raphael, it was no surprise.</p><p>Linhardt found that his appetite had returned with a vengeance. “I should probably eat something too. Let’s both clean up and you can tell me about everything I missed over our meal.”</p><p>“Sure thing!” Caspar looked delighted. “Glad to see you’re getting better.”</p><p>That was when Linhardt remembered the drawing in the book. Perhaps he <em>wasn’t</em> getting better. “Of course.”</p><p>It wasn’t long before they were sitting side by side at one of the long tables in the Mess Hall with full plates in front of them. Caspar was relating in detail how his training had gone and Linhardt was only half listening.</p><p>“By chance, has anyone else fallen ill. I’d hate to have passed on whatever I had to one of our classmates.” Linhardt interjected suddenly.</p><p>Caspar didn’t seem to mind. But as a rule, Caspar didn’t let much bother him. “<em>Oh</em>. Well, no… not that I’ve seen at least. Bernadetta keeps to her room most of the time, but I think that’s normal.”</p><p>He nodded. “That’s a relief.” Perhaps it wasn’t contagious after all. Whatever it was.</p><p>“Lin… you don’t really talk to anyone else in our class but me. And I feel fine.” Caspar observed.</p><p>It was true. If anyone was going to catch this strange magical disease Linhardt had, it would probably be Caspar. The thought made something in Linhardt very uncomfortable. “You’re right.</p><p>Linhardt didn’t interrupt again as Caspar went back to relating the events of the day.</p><p>Caspar had promised to learn some kind of board game with Ashe and a few other friends that evening so the two of them went their separate ways after they had finished eating. Linhardt was glad to have had some food – he probably hadn’t eaten in quite some time. But that was typical when he got obsessed with something new to research.</p><p>Only, normally the topics that interested him were a little less dark.</p><p>Seeing Caspar run off excitedly made Linhardt just a little sad. Of course Caspar had made other friends here – he liked people and was quick to find activities to help burn up all of his excess energy. Some of their classmates probably found him a bit too… <em>exuberant</em> – but his sincerity was endearing.</p><p>
  <em>Even if he was an idiot.</em>
</p><p>…</p><p>Alone again, Linhardt went to the library to look up the strange word that had accompanied the illustration from earlier. Only when he arrived, he found that it wasn’t in any of the standard medical indexes. Nor was it in any of the herbalist’s guides. Nor could he find mention of it in any of the atlases of botany.</p><p>He was beginning to lose hope when he decided to grab dictionaries off the shelves at random. By now the table he was using was rather full and some of the other visitors were starting to give him funny looks. Thankfully, Tomas the librarian was absent.</p><p>But he was used to the stares by now and ignored them.</p><p>Finally, he found the strange word in a dictionary of mythology of all places. His heart sank. Any chance that this was going to prove to be a viable lead seemed slim. After reading the short description, however, he was… less certain.</p><p>
  <em>HANAHAKI : a magical disease that literally translates as ‘to vomit flowers’ and is said to occur within those with great magical ability when incredibly strong amorous feelings are repressed or ignored – most often because the object of their affection is unable to reciprocate in kind. ‘Coughing up petals’ is a phrase often used in ancient texts to symbolically refer to unrequited love. Some legends say that Pan, an advisor to Loog the great hero of Faerghus, succumbed to this rare condition. Other documented cases are so far and few between, many still consider the disease to be fictional. With few exceptions, once the victim displays symptoms it is too late. A rootlike structure begins to develop in their lungs and will periodically flower Camellia-like blooms, growing in severity and frequency until the airway is completely choked within a single season. There is no known cure.</em>
</p><p>Linhardt set the book aside and worried his bottom lip as he had a habit of doing when he was trying to think something through.</p><p>
  <em>The physical symptoms seemed to correlate… but as for the rest… well…</em>
</p><p>“How absurd.” Linhardt whispered to himself, trying to dismiss it.</p><p>While one’s emotional state could undoubtedly manifest itself physically at times, this possibility seemed to be rather… <em>extreme</em>. And no one in their right mind would describe Linhardt as ‘amorous’ – mostly because he showed very little interest in… well… practically everyone. In fact, he was rather proud of not allowing himself to become entangled in attachments that were so utterly foolish.</p><p>Not that he wasn’t a perfectly healthy 16-year-old young man with all of the sexual and hormonal frustrations one would normally expect at this stage of life. But that was the cruel reality of biology, not some sick poet’s romantic fantasy.</p><p>Even if his attractions were… <em>unusual</em>.</p><p>…</p><p>Secretly, he had other motivations to skip weapon trainings and remain a non-combatant on the battlefield. He wasn’t like other men. They seemed to revel in the fighting. Most physical contact between them was either crude or casual and… <em>meaningless</em>. Their eyes didn’t linger on how their toned bodies eventually became sweat-soaked and seemed to glitter in harsh sunlight – their skin tinged golden through frequent exposure to the elements.</p><p>But Linhardt noticed. And for that he kept as far away as possible.</p><p>It was ridiculous really – a ludicrous dichotomy and a cruel trick – to be so repulsed by other young men’s gruff, competitive natures while simultaneously being enraptured by their rustic beauty.</p><p>He remembered all too clearly how quickly people he thought were his friends had turned on him as a child. All it would take is for him to become distracted – to gaze a little too long at the wrong person and he was sure to find himself face-down in the dirt with his arm twisted around his back… or worse.</p><p>Linhardt was pale and slim from spending most of his time either indoors reading or quietly reveling in the cool shade. His hair was always long and his features fine and sharp. In fact, until his last few growth spurts and his voice finally settling into a much deeper version of itself – people had sometimes mistaken him for a girl.</p><p>And it always required far too much effort to correct them.</p><p>But his refusal to celebrate his feelings hardly warranted some mythical – and apparently <em>fatal</em> – disease to lodge itself into his chest.</p><p>Just to spite him, his body convulsed into another bout of coughing right then and there in the library. When he finished, as discreetly as he was able, he opened his hands to reveal more snow-white petals.</p><p>This time, the reality of them scared Linhardt.</p><p>Up until then it had been just a fascinating mystery to solve. A distraction.</p><p>…</p><p>He could tell someone.</p><p>
  <em>But what good would it do?</em>
</p><p>Either he would share his theory and get laughed at for blowing things out of proportion – some other much more benign cause which he had overlooked being the source of it all. Or others – probably lots of others – would get involved in diagnosing, monitoring, and observing him for what little time he had left. Normally he didn’t care what people thought of him – but that sort of attention would be unbearable. He much preferred if people just ignored him back.</p><p>Furthermore, his father would undoubtedly be notified. Linhardt might even be forced to leave the Academy.</p><p>This was supposed to be his last, perfect year before all the troubles of his adult life would descend upon him like a vice. And now he might not even have that long to draw breath.</p><p>Linhardt left his piles of books right where they were on the table without even a twinge of guilt as he exited the library. He was exhausted. His nap earlier hadn’t been nearly enough.</p><p>When he made it back to his room, he turned the little book of horrors to the one page that was already becoming burned into his mind. The detailed illustration of the woman whose chest was full of flowers.</p><p>He sincerely hoped the artist hadn’t invented her expression of serenity.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>Just days later it was their first real battle.</p><p>Sure, the Knights handled most of it – but that didn’t distract from the reality that every attack on both sides held behind it the intent to cause serious harm… even death.</p><p>Caspar had flung himself at an armed bandit with too much confidence. He wasn’t shown any mercy.</p><p>But all the while Linhardt was shakily encouraging the ragged gash on his friend’s side to close, Caspar wouldn’t shut-up about how he could have won if he had just trained a little more in countering left-handed assailants. Linhardt wanted to shout at him… but it took so much energy just to focus on keeping Caspar from losing too much blood.</p><p>Instead, he grit his teeth and tried to blot out everything but what was necessary.</p><p>Linhardt <em>hated</em> blood.</p><p>White Magic could stem the flow and encourage its replenishment – but he couldn’t return what was lost. It stained his hands and clothes reminding him of the pain required for it to escape. As it dried it made his skin oddly sticky – which made his stomach roil and seethe.</p><p>As soon as Caspar was well enough to wander back into formation Linhardt threw-up everything he had in him. The sour bile burned his throat and stung his eyes.</p><p>The Knights around him pretended not to notice. This is what they were training for after all.</p><p>Manuela took pity on him afterwards and told him he had performed admirably. He had healed other soldiers too, bruises and small cuts, but there was something very different about seeing someone he cared about in such a vulnerable state.</p><p>It sort of made him not want to feel anything at all.</p><p>And it took several days for Linhardt to recover from the shock of it. Caspar on the other hand, seemed almost unaffected. If anything, he dived back into training with increased zeal. His easy laughter and bumbling antics were a boon to the rest of their peers. But not to Linhardt.</p><p>“You seem… awfully quiet today, Lin. More so than normal.” Caspar observed as they sat next to one another in the Mess Hall yet again. They ate most of their meals together now – despite Caspar’s deplorable table manners.</p><p>Linhardt realized Caspar had been talking to him this entire time and he hadn’t heard a word of it. “Oh. I guess I’m just… <em>distracted</em>. Too much on my mind.”</p><p>Caspar nudged his side. “That isn’t unusual. But sometimes I wonder if all of that thinking isn’t doing you more harm than good, my friend.”</p><p>“You’re one to talk.” Linhardt replied bitterly.</p><p>Caspar looked hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>Linhardt surprised himself. He was… <em>angry</em>. How long had he felt this way? “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”</p><p>“No – I want to hear this. You’ve been… <em>distant</em> recently, Lin. What’s going on?” Insisted Caspar.</p><p>Linhardt’s thoughts drifted back and forth between the bottle of ever-increasing flower petals on his desk in his room and on how awful Caspar’s blood had felt on his bare hands. There was too much to say – and none of it would be helpful.</p><p>After a moment, Linhardt shook his head. “I just don’t like seeing you get hurt, Caspar. You aren’t careful enough. You don’t always… think things through. That’s all I meant.”</p><p>Thankfully, Caspar seemed satisfied with this – albeit reluctantly. “<em>Oh</em>. This is about… when you healed me. I really could have taken him out, Lin. Next time for sure, I’ll–”</p><p>But Linhardt quickly stood up, interrupting him. “Just forget it, Caspar. Good night.” Linhardt left his half-finished plate on the table as he walked back to his room. He wasn’t hungry anyway.</p><p>Caspar didn’t follow him.</p><p>Linhardt didn’t make it all the way before a coughing fit seized him once again. It was severe enough this time that he had to lean against one of the pillars of the upstairs dormitories for support. Petals were falling through the fingers of his free hand faster than he could catch them – and where they had simply been an irritant before, this time they <em>hurt</em>.</p><p>When the spasms finally subsided, Linhardt looked around guiltily. The last thing he needed was for someone to see him like this. But no one was around.</p><p>
  <em>He was alone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>…</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. White Petals – Harpstring Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was raining hard. Training sessions that afternoon had all been canceled and most everyone was huddled up in their rooms. Linhardt rather liked the sound of the rain on the windows – it was soothing.</p><p>But there was lightning and thunder as well.</p><p>Caspar <em>hated</em> thunder.</p><p>The other young man had suggested that the two of them wait out the storm together so that they wouldn’t be bored. But Linhardt knew better, even as he agreed and the two of them got comfortable in his room… which was lower to the ground.</p><p>Caspar wouldn’t stop talking about Catherine and her weapon Thunderbrand. Linhardt was intrigued with her Holy Relic and had even asked her upfront upon their first meeting not long ago if he could just hold it and swing it around for his research – however, she had flatly refused.</p><p>Caspar had found a fallen tree branch somewhere and was trimming it down into a crude replica of the original they had been discussing so passionately. It was bound to look ridiculous compared to the real thing, of course, but that didn’t stop Caspar from pouring all his efforts into it.</p><p>“I asked to spar with her, but she said she didn’t want to hurt me. Me?! <em>Ha</em>! I told her that wouldn’t happen and that I wasn’t afraid of a little pain besides, but she still dueled with Felix instead – the lucky bastard.” Caspar grumbled. He was trying to shape the many tips of the strange sword into points with a small knife.</p><p>His comment reminded Linhardt of recent, unpleasant memories.</p><p>“There are bound to be other Relics out there I could use for my research – but Thunderbrand is so convenient. If only she wasn’t so protective of the damn thing…” Linhardt grumbled back. “I wonder if she ever leaves it unattended, or if she sleeps with it.”</p><p>Caspar laughed. “I don’t think a weapon shaped like that has a sheath – sleeping next to it sounds… <em>awkward</em>. And a little dangerous. But Lin, don’t go getting into trouble. At least not without me, ok?”</p><p>Linhardt smiled. “No promises.”</p><p>
  <em>Flash…. BOOOM!</em>
</p><p>A lightning bolt tore across the gray sky a split second before the crash of thunder rattled the windowpanes.</p><p>“<em>Shit</em>.” Caspar swore, sticking his thumb into his mouth. He had jumped at the unexpected sound and apparently cut his finger.</p><p>Linhardt got off his bed and quickly walked over to where his friend was working on the floor. Wood shavings, leaves, and other bits from the branch were scattered everywhere. “Let me see.” He crouched down and extended a hand to Caspar.</p><p>Caspar pulled his thumb from his lips and wordlessly let Linhardt heal him. It wasn’t deep.</p><p>“Maybe you ought to put the knife away until later.” Linhardt suggested.</p><p>Caspar rolled his eyes but complied. The replica was coming along, even if it was a little silly. It wouldn’t be good for actual training since it would be too light and fragile. In fact, it was more like a toy.</p><p>Just a few years ago Linhardt and Caspar had played with similar toys – enacting quite imaginative stories about exploration, adventure, and heroism. Caspar usually did all the pretend fighting then – just like how he did all of the real fighting now.</p><p>
  <em>But seeing Caspar bleed again, even just a little…</em>
</p><p>“Why do you do it?” Linhardt suddenly asked – realizing a little too late that Caspar probably wouldn’t follow his train of thought.</p><p>“What – you mean carve wood? Um… because it’s something to do. Rainstorms are the <em>worst</em>.” Caspar looked out at the pouring rain, obviously wishing it would stop.</p><p>Linhardt shook his head and dropped Caspar’s hand – his finger as good as new. “No, I mean why do you fight all the time? Our next assignment is coming up and… I find myself dreading it. Not that I’m not confident in my new offensive spell work – it’s just… well…” He drifted off, not finding the right words.</p><p>“Lin, I fight for <em>you</em> – and other’s like you. No offense… but you aren’t a fighter. I’ve always known that. And so you need guys like me to help protect you.” Caspar said, as if this should be obvious.</p><p>“That’s a… selfless response. And while I am grateful… it’s not exactly what I was looking for. There are other people who could fight instead. Why does it need to be <em>you</em>?” Linhardt stressed the last word, emphasizing it further by pointing hard into Caspar’s chest.</p><p>Caspar looked stumped. “I dunno. I guess it just isn’t in me to let other people fight my battles for me. And watching other people in trouble… it makes me want to do something about it, you know? I get… kinda angry. And when I do, it feels like… right or something.”</p><p>Linhardt just nodded to show that he was listening. Caspar was always so honest with him.</p><p>“What about you, Lin? Why do you use magic?” He grinned at him playfully.</p><p>“<em>Why</em>?” Linhardt hadn’t expected the tables to turn on him like this. He was at a loss for a moment. “I suppose I just find it interesting.”</p><p>Caspar huffed. “That’s a cop-out, Lin. I know it isn’t ‘interesting’ for you to heal people on the battlefield. You hate it.”</p><p>Linhardt didn’t know he had been that obvious. “Er…”</p><p>“Then why?” Caspar asked again.</p><p>He would have liked to have said it was to help people – give a selfless answer the way Caspar had done. But it would be a lie. And this time Linhardt didn’t think he could make it seem believable.</p><p>
  <em>BOOM!</em>
</p><p>Another crash of thunder interrupted them.</p><p>Caspar jumped again – genuine fear flashed briefly in his eyes.</p><p>“This one sounded a little further away. We’ve probably been through the worst of it.” Supplied Linhardt, trying to sound casual.</p><p>“Y-Yeah…” Caspar said shakily as he attempted to piece back together his bravado from earlier.</p><p>Caspar had told him the story once.</p><p>Him and his older brother were out playing in the rain when he was really little. It had probably been a warm summer rain just like this one. After getting soaked the two of them sought shelter beneath a big sycamore tree on their estate. It was one of those really old trees that lived longer than several generations of House Bergliez – probably having sprouted when Caspar’s great-great grandfather was a child. It was a tree they had played beneath many times before.</p><p>A bolt of lightning hit it while they were waiting out the storm. The tree caught fire and several hefty branches split off completely. The two boys were lucky to be alive – first because the lightning hadn’t struck them after hitting the tree on its way to the ground and second that the tree’s falling, burning remains hadn’t crushed them flat. His brother escaped unscathed – but Caspar’s eardrums had burst and for weeks afterwards he worried that he was going to be deaf for the rest of his life.</p><p>Sometimes Linhardt wondered if this was why Caspar seemed to shout so much.</p><p>“Want me to read something to you?” He offered to Caspar.</p><p>The young man nodded.</p><p>“I don’t have anything in here like what Ashe likes to read. Most of these are probably going to bore you.” Linhardt warned. Not that entertainment was really the point.</p><p>Caspar cleared his throat. “Doesn’t matter.” He fiddled with his Thunderbrand replica. “For a first try – this one’s not so bad. But I’ll make a better one next time.”</p><p>Linhardt just nodded.</p><p>In the end, he read several chapters of ‘Reflections on the Crest of Seiros’ aloud until the storm had fully passed. Luckily, Linhardt didn’t even cough once.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>Linhardt had never killed anyone before.</p><p>It was instinctual. A somewhat crazed looking thug who was already bleeding from several wounds had pushed past their defenses and had a raised a heavy axe to strike down one of their men. The guard was young and inexperienced, much as Linhardt was himself – and had tripped on the uneven ground in his heavy armor. The young man couldn’t hope to block the attack properly – and the blow would surely cut through his armor like butter. No one else could get to him in time to help.</p><p>Linhardt had practiced the spell hundreds of times at Manuela’s insistence over the past few weeks.</p><p>The brute with the axe fell backwards from the force of it and just… didn’t get up.</p><p>“Th-thank you.” The guard had stammered – even though he was supposed to be the one protecting Linhardt.</p><p>They had never spoken to each other before. Linhardt was just a rich brat from the Empire who didn’t talk to anyone, let alone the lowest ranks of the Knights of Seiros unlucky enough to be tasked with acting as his bodyguards. The mission was a simple one – but the fighting had unexpectedly turned desperate.</p><p>Linhardt didn’t reply. Instead, he cried silently.</p><p>He was in shock.</p><p>But he wasn’t a coward. Linhardt stood his ground along with the other troops. He kept healing those who needed it, but his gaze kept returning to the man splayed out in the grass not so far away, still holding a wicked looking axe. Linhardt didn’t need to get any closer to know the man was dead.</p><p>Linhardt had killed someone.</p><p>And for a stranger.</p><p>It was something Caspar would have done, Linhardt thought – just as the battle finally came to an end. But Caspar wasn’t nearby – and Linhardt would never tell him about this. <em>Never</em>.</p><p>He was sick again. But this time, the Knights around him didn’t ignore it. They patted him on the back and offered him some water.</p><p>Linhardt was grateful.</p><p>…</p><p>Someone must have reported it to Manuela, because when they got back to the monastery, she asked to have a private word with him.</p><p>“I hear that someone is indebted to you, Linhardt.” She began. They were in the reception hall. “A young guard, out on his first away mission.”</p><p>Linhardt didn’t reply – choosing instead to study the mosaic tiles on the floor. <em>The amount of effort it must have taken, just to make the floor they walked on everyday look pretty…</em></p><p>“He has asked to return to his former post – gatekeeping duty, I believe. Said he wasn’t cut out for more.” Manuela continued – obviously suggesting something. “A job he does most admirably.”</p><p>Still Linhardt did not look up.</p><p>“I don’t blame him, of course. When there is something that you feel good doing – something you’re good at – it makes sense to stay put. And who knows… things might change in the future for him. Just like how things changed for me. I didn’t stay in the opera forever, but I don’t regret the time I spent there. In fact, I cherish it.”</p><p>“I think I understand what you’re trying to say, Professor.” Linhardt replied, addressing the floor. “I’m… not very good at this.”</p><p>Manuela placed a gentle hand on his arm. “On the contrary, you are <em>very</em> good at this, Linhardt. But I don’t think it makes you happy.”</p><p>The tears from earlier returned. He tried to ignore them. “I… hate it. I really, <em>really</em> hate it, Professor.”</p><p>She squeezed his arm in sympathy. “Sometimes I hate it too.”</p><p>At this, Linhardt finally looked up – surprised. “Really?”</p><p>Manuela nodded. “But then I consider where the young men and women in my care might be without me – all those battles fought without my healing talents to support them. I know that… most of the time I’m a pretty selfish person, Linhardt. But I’m here because I <em>want</em> to be here – nowhere else.”</p><p>“I don’t really… have much of a choice. Not really. But… I like living at Garreg Mach.” Linhardt revealed.</p><p>“I understand. And you have friends here, right? People you want to protect?” Asked Manuela.</p><p>Linhardt nodded, his tears stopped. He had one friend at least.</p><p>Manuela let go of his arm. “That’s good. Hold onto them, Linhardt. But if it gets to be too much – if I place a burden on you that is more than you can bear – you can tell me. I will not fault you for that. Ever.”</p><p>“Thank you, Professor.” He sighed in relief.</p><p>Manuela gave him a final, gentle pat on his arm and departed. It was only after she was out of sight that he considered telling her about the coughing. She actually cared about him – which is why she would try and help, he reasoned.</p><p>And he was pretty sure no one could help him in that regard.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>Linhardt eventually found other texts that mentioned the strange disease.</p><p>Every single one of them was tragic and horrible.</p><p>But it was the legend of Pan that was the worst. Linhardt had heard the name before, but only in passing. He hadn’t read much into the history of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus – simply because he had no reason to do so before, having been born and raised in the Empire.</p><p>Ashe had given him the book, actually – it was called ‘Loog’s Triumph’.</p><p>Caspar and Ashe were a lot alike. But Ashe was gentle and purposeful where Caspar was brash and oblivious. He was fast becoming Caspar’s new best friend, even if they weren’t in the same class.</p><p>Not that Linhardt was jealous.</p><p>Ashe preferred training with a bow, but he would try his hand at the training swords and lances in order to spar with Caspar. Linhardt flatly refused these sorts of requests.</p><p>Ashe just mentioned in passing the book he had recently finished that had featured Pan, which of course grabbed Linhardt’s attention. The sorts of things the two young men read rarely overlapped, but it was nice to have someone who shared in the enthusiasm for the activity in general. Ashe handed it over excitedly – always eager to share his stories with others.</p><p>Pan was a trusted advisor to Loog along with the King’s best friend Kyphon, but while the other two were crest bearers, Pan was not. He was a mage and the founder of the Royal School of Sorcery. But from these few historical facts, the author had crafted a narrative that was so full of the fantastical it was hard to know which pieces were reflections of true history and which were artistic embellishments. The detailed records Linhardt would need to authenticate certain claims were either in some dusty vault far away in Fhirdiad or lost to history altogether.</p><p>Because in the story… Pan was in love with Loog. Desperately and irrevocably in love – which explained his selfless devotion, earning him the somewhat ironic title of the ‘undesiring strategist’. Only, Loog was far too busy having a courtly romance with the ‘Maiden of Wind’ to notice. Pan was witnessed coughing up petals by Kyphon, who he made swear an oath to never reveal his condition to the King.</p><p>And in the end, he died.</p><p>Pan wasn’t the main character of the story – Linhardt supposed Ashe had skipped right past all of the references to Pan’s peculiarities in order to enjoy the happy ending where Loog got married. Ashe said it was a unique portrayal of the first King of Faerghus who he obviously idolized.</p><p>He returned the book and politely agreed with Ashe when he began chattering on about how this version of Loog’s story differed from all of the others.</p><p>Linhardt agreed with a lot of things just so people would stop talking. Caspar knew this already, but Ashe didn’t.</p><p>He wondered why all of the stories that featured two men falling in love had to be sad. Usually, one or both of them died at the end – just like this one. Either that or they were side characters – also just like this one. The plot was predictable, but Linhardt was still struck by - if it was at all true of course - how difficult it must have been for Pan to work so hard for someone who could never love him back. The author seemed to sympathize with him as well, which was unusual. Loog was depicted as… less than perfect in the narrative.</p><p>He didn’t share any his observations about it with Ashe of course, because he was sure that they had been reading the same book for very different reasons. Ashe was very nice and was more experienced in the harsh realities of the world – but Linhardt still wasn’t so sure if he was a safe person to talk to about such things.</p><p>Linhardt hadn’t told anyone about his feelings, he realized. He assumed his father was aware – or at least suspected. It just wasn’t something people talked about.</p><p>Which is why when Ashe brought it up one day at breakfast, Linhardt was caught by surprise.</p><p>“Hey Linhardt. Prince Dimitri was giving me some pointers on how to better block a brawler’s attack with a lance yesterday – you know, for when I train with Caspar. It was awesome watching him go all out against Dedue. He kind of reminds me a lot of King Loog from the legends. Wouldn’t you agree?” Asked Ashe, out of the blue.</p><p>Linhardt shrugged. He didn’t know Dimitri very well. “I suppose.”</p><p>“And in that context, it made me wonder which role Dedue might fill. At first I was sure it must be Kyphon, but now I’m not so sure.” Ashe added.</p><p>“I don't see where you are going with this, Ashe.” Linhardt was looking across the room at the two men in question. The two of them were always together, so it sort of made sense.</p><p>Ashe cheeks were tinged a little red. “I think the role of Pan fits him better.”</p><p>Linhardt suddenly understood what Ashe was implying. “<em>Ah</em>. And… that would be… <em>bad</em>?”</p><p>Ashe raised his eyebrows. “You really think so?” Ashe was asking about more than just Dedue and Dimitri. Perhaps Ashe hadn’t skipped over any parts of ‘Loog’s Triumph’ after all.</p><p>Linhardt looked over at Caspar, who was too busy inhaling his food to have notice the cryptic conversation his friends were having over his head.</p><p>Ashe probably didn’t miss where Linhardt’s gaze was drawn.</p><p>“No. Not bad. Unfortunate, perhaps. Sad even.” Linhardt finally answered.</p><p>Ashe hummed. “Really? <em>Maybe</em>. But it kind of makes me happy too.”</p><p>Linhardt looked Ashe in the eyes, just to make sure they were talking about the same thing. “In that case… I kind of hope that Dimitri isn’t much like Loog. For Dedue’s sake.”</p><p>Ashe smiled. “It would make for a better ending, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>Linhardt nodded and returned his gaze back to his half-eaten plate.</p><p>“Come on, Ashe! Show me what you learned from Dimitri yesterday before classes start.” Caspar was finished eating and was now pulling on Ashe’s sleeve. “Then we can both show Raphael later.”</p><p>“Want to come watch, Lin?” Asked Ashe. He had never called Linhardt that before.</p><p>But he shook his head. “No… but thanks for the offer.”</p><p>Linhardt was thanking Ashe for more than just that.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>He knew it would happen sooner or later.</p><p>Someone was going to see him coughing and people were going to find out. Linhardt just hadn’t planned on it happening so soon.</p><p>And of course, it had to happen in front of someone who would know exactly what was going on.</p><p>Most of the time Linhardt could keep it discreet or stave off anything major until he was alone. The fluttering would start and he would know what was coming. But this time he had been stuck in an extra-long seminar course Manuela was holding for advanced spell work. It was fascinating stuff – but he couldn’t focus on most of the second half because he was too distracted.</p><p>The harder he tried to fight it, the more painful it was when they finally came out.</p><p>As soon as the lecture was over, Linhardt had left the classroom as quickly as possible and headed for the gardens. If he was lucky, no one would suspect a thing. But his uncharacteristically swift exit had drawn someone’s attention and they had followed him.</p><p>“Lin, are you okay?” Dorothea asked right behind him just as the coughing began.</p><p>Linhardt couldn’t stop it.</p><p>He turned away, hoping that she wouldn’t notice. But he just kept coughing. Covering his mouth didn’t help. He was choking – gasping for air between each cough, unable to speak. He couldn’t tell her that he was fine. He couldn’t lie and get her to look the other way.</p><p>“Lin! Hey, Linhardt… <em>what</em>?” Dorothea came closer.</p><p>White petals caught on the slight breeze and danced from Linhardt’s shaking hands on their way to the ground. He had never coughed up so many - and they were still coming.</p><p>“Hang on – I’ll go get help!” Dorothea exclaimed, sounding frightened. But at her words Linhardt turned around and shook his head violently at her.</p><p>He reached for her hand and probably on reflex she took it. Linhardt held on tight.</p><p>
  <em>She couldn’t tell anyone else.</em>
</p><p>“<em>Ouch</em>. Lin!” Dorothea cried, he was probably holding on a little too tight. But since she couldn’t escape, she tried patting his back instead. “You’re… you… <em>Linhardt</em>…”</p><p>The flurry of petals was finally over. He was left panting – all attempts at hiding the damn things sticking to his hands and on his clothes abandoned.</p><p>“You can’t… say anything.” Linhardt wheezed.</p><p>Dorothea wrenched her hand out of his grasp. “And why not? Lin, this is <em>serious</em>!”</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “I know! Which is exactly why… you can’t tell anyone. I… already know… what happens next. They would just… send me home.”</p><p>Dorothea didn’t back down. “Professor Manuela could…”</p><p>But Linhardt interrupted. “No one can do anything, Dorothea! It just… <em>is</em>.” The anger in his words surprised the both of them.</p><p>Dorothea looked too shocked to respond.</p><p>“<em>Please</em>, Dorothea. You know what this is? What I have?” Linhardt suspected, but he wanted to be sure.</p><p>Dorothea nodded. “I didn’t think it was <em>real</em>. Coughing up petals… it happens in a few operas. Oh, Linhardt!” She had tears in her eyes now.</p><p>Linhardt hadn’t cried about what was going to happen to him before. But seeing Dorothea’s beautiful face crumple in sorrowful understanding pushed him over the edge.</p><p>The young woman wrapped her arms around him and they both cried for a little while. It was late enough that no one else was in the gardens to overhear or disturb them.</p><p>Eventually, Dorothea led him to one of the benches and they sat down side-by-side.</p><p>“How long…?” Dorothea began to ask, but she didn’t finish.</p><p>“It started just a while after arriving at Garreg Mach. I’m… not sure on the rest.” Linhardt supplied. He began brushing all of the petals from his clothes – he had given up trying to save them a while back.</p><p>Dorothea put a gentle hand on his knee. “<em>Why</em>?” She dropped her voice to a whisper.</p><p>Linhardt shrugged. “I… don’t know. I mean… I think it’s because… well… because I…” But he trailed off. It was rare for him to be so tongue-tied.</p><p>“Because you’re… <em>different</em>?” Dorothea suggested. There were probably plenty of operas that played off of doomed relationships. It wasn’t difficult for her to guess.</p><p>Linhardt nodded. "Because of who I like."</p><p>“Does anyone else know?” Asked Dorothea.</p><p>“About… me liking men… or the rest?” He sought to clarify.</p><p>Dorothea leaned her head on his shoulder. “Both.”</p><p>Linhardt wasn’t sure if Ashe counted.</p><p>“I think… you’re it. Others may have guessed about the first – but as for… what’s growing in my chest. Just you.” Answered Linhardt.</p><p>Dorothea snuggled in a little closer. “How lonely.” She observed.</p><p>“Maybe.” Linhardt was reluctant to admit it.</p><p>“I still think you should tell Professor Manuela.” Dorothea added.</p><p>But Linhardt shook his head again. “I’ve been looking through every book I can find on it. All of them say the same thing. Unless you know how to fix this… I’d rather not tell people. Not yet, at least. They will know eventually… but not yet.”</p><p>Dorothea was silent for a while. Linhardt wondered if she had fallen asleep.</p><p>“What if… I asked her about it without telling her it’s for you? I'm sure we’ve both starred in operas that touched on it. I could… make it <em>theoretical</em>.” She finally whispered – not asleep after all.</p><p>Linhardt gave this some thought. It was a good plan, actually. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. But only if… only if you promise.”</p><p>“Then I promise.” Dorothea answered readily.</p><p>He sighed. “Okay.”</p><p>The bench wasn’t terribly comfortable, but Linhardt was exhausted from everything that had happened throughout the day and his most recent bought of coughing. Far too tired to move. They stayed sitting in silence for quite some time.</p><p>“You aren’t alone, you know. About… being different.” Her whisper pulled Linhardt back from falling asleep himself.</p><p>“There must be others out there – I know. But…” Linhardt didn’t finish.</p><p>Dorothea sat up straight and turned so that she was facing him. Linhardt was surprised to see that she still looked rather miserable… perhaps as he had calmed down, she had kept sinking deeper into her feelings. He had misinterpreted her silence.</p><p>Dorothea wasn’t one to just peacefully accept things.</p><p>“No, Linhardt – I mean you aren’t alone, not even right this moment. I might openly dream about finding a husband but… I would be happy with… someone else, too.” She revealed.</p><p>“Oh.” He hadn’t expected this. Perhaps people like him were not as rare as he thought. “You’re not just saying that because…”</p><p>The stern look she gave him cut him off abruptly.</p><p>More silence.</p><p>“I still don’t understand why this is happening to <em>you</em>, specifically. This is the sort of dramatics that I’ve seen trained actors try to perfect. Except… this is a lot less beautiful.” Dorothea mused.</p><p>“Thanks.” He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.</p><p>Dorothea continued. “But in the stories, it was always because there was… <em>someone else</em>. You… you love someone, don’t you Lin. I just… never really imagined you <em>could</em> love. You always seemed… uninterested. But… you love them a lot. So much so that…”</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. He hadn’t even allowed <em>himself</em> to think things through that far – he wasn’t about the let Dorothea put thoughts in his head. “There’s no one else.”</p><p>“But there is, isn’t there.” Dorothea reasoned.</p><p>“No, there isn’t.” Linhardt insisted, a little stronger.</p><p>He could tell the exact moment the idea struck her. Dorothea’s face changed from one of somber and slightly confused stubbornness to… virtuous sympathy? Or was that just pity?</p><p>“It’s Caspar, isn’t it.” She stated confidently.</p><p>Linhardt was angry. “Don’t <em>blame</em> him for this! It isn’t… it isn’t Caspar.”</p><p>But it was.</p><p>He shouted. “It isn’t his fault!”</p><p>Dorothea brought her hands up to frame his face. “<em>Shhhhhh</em>. I’m not blaming him, Lin. And you aren’t either. Calm down.”</p><p>But Linhardt had to pull away, coughing.</p><p>Only this time the petals weren’t white. At first Linhardt thought it was a trick of the light, since the sun was setting. But the sky was gold… not pink.</p><p>…</p><p>Also, this time some of the petals were speckled with blood.</p><p>…</p><p>"We are going to find a way to fix this, Lin." Dorothea whispered.</p><p>Linhardt wasn't so optimistic.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Color Shift – Garland Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the first time in a long while, Linhardt found that when he curled up in his bed, sleep just wasn’t forthcoming. He had almost drifted off when he was by Dorothea’s side in the garden earlier – but now that he was alone again, his mind refused to cooperate.</p><p>He hadn’t been aware of how closely guarded he was with his secrets before – how much he just avoided thinking about certain things altogether. Sure, he was often mentally exhausted from his spell work, but maybe he sometimes slept as a way to escape from his own mind for a while too.</p><p>Dorothea had quickly seen through what he himself had refused to acknowledge.</p><p>
  <em>Of course it was Caspar.</em>
</p><p>Linhardt rubbed absently at his chest as his thoughts continued swirling – preventing him from falling into a peaceful slumber.</p><p>It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when his feelings for Caspar had shifted from friendship into something more… something much deeper. But he had always noticed little things about Caspar that he admired. Linhardt used to think it was jealousy – even though it was often about stuff that neither of them had much control over.</p><p>His best friend was prone to act first and ask questions later. More often than not, Caspar got into a lot of trouble this way. But no matter how many times that happened, he still rushed in before thinking things through over and over again. At first, Linhardt had considered that Caspar was just dumb. But he now realized it wasn’t that Caspar was incapable of listening to reason – sometimes he even had enough sense to come up with some on his own – it was just that his desire to take action far outweighed any doubts and fears that might otherwise inhibit him from doing what was necessary. Caspar was brave, perhaps the bravest person Linhardt had ever met. Even if he was also a little foolish.</p><p>Linhardt would consider all possible actions – usually trying to determine which one would take the least amount of effort – sometimes taking so long that opportunities passed him by. And it wasn’t always that he was afraid, per say, but he recognized potential dangers in a way that Caspar just… didn’t.</p><p>Usually, Caspar had such excess reserves of energy that he darted from one task to another, making Linhardt dizzy. But that didn’t mean that he never needed to rest. His friend was like… like a kitten who would climb around and play with every shiny new toy so passionately that it would wear itself out and need to take a nap before doing it all over again. Caspar probably wouldn’t like this particular comparison – but Linhardt couldn’t help thinking it. Kittens had claws too.</p><p>And when Caspar needed to take a break, it was often Linhardt who he shared it with.</p><p>Linhardt treasured those rare moments of calm when Caspar insisted he was just going to rest his eyes for a few minutes and ended up sleeping far longer than he had planned. If they were outside, Caspar would curl up in the grass next to him and look so peaceful. If they were indoors, sometimes he would lean on Linhardt’s shoulder or even use his lap for a pillow while Linhardt was deeply focused on his research. Sometimes Caspar would get after Linhardt for not waking him up – but he never felt guilty about it, and Caspar wasn’t ever truly upset with him either.</p><p>That was another thing – Caspar was an open book. His sunny disposition was genuine and for some people, even infectious. Linhardt liked to think he was immune to Caspar’s charms, but he wasn’t. He would be lying if he didn’t also admit that it was a tad annoying at times – especially in serious situations or when Linhardt needed to focus.</p><p>He was certain that Caspar was aware if this since he always looked a little smug when he succeeded in getting Linhardt to smile or laugh even on days when he just didn’t feel up to it.</p><p>And then… there was the rest of Caspar to consider.</p><p>Caspar’s hair was course with a severe natural cowlick that refused any and all attempts at taming it. Linhardt wasn’t a vain person in the least, but he still marveled when, regardless of circumstance, Caspar’s hair always looked good – even if it was in a boyish, messy sort of way. First thing in the morning, gently tussled and adorable. After training, even smashed flat all around the sides from his helmet – still handsome.</p><p>Linhardt’s own hair was rather fine and prone to tangling, which was why he kept it pulled back.</p><p>Caspar had also started to bulk-up since coming to the monastery, even if he would never achieve Raphael’s intimidating size. Caspar was just too lean and short. The ridiculously revealing training gear for grapplers was both a blessing and a curse for Linhardt. Opportunities for stolen, wanton glances at Caspar’s sun-kissed skin were more frequent – and incredibly pleasing – but they were always accompanied by intense fear and guilt.</p><p>Once or twice Caspar had caught him staring, but instead of getting self-conscious or angry like any normal person would, he seemed keen on showing off even more – making Linhardt embarrassed instead. Raphael’s influence probably wasn’t helping any.</p><p>However, both of them were normally pretty shameless – just in different ways.</p><p>Linhardt felt that complying to restrictive social norms for the sake of maintaining a proud, noble façade or an artificially inflated reputation was egotistical and ultimately worthless. Maybe because he valued authenticity and personal freedom so much more.</p><p>Caspar seemed to resist other’s expectations because he not only showed no interest in trying to be something he wasn’t – he was probably <em>incapable</em> of conforming to them anyways.</p><p>Linhardt rolled over on his side. By now it was well into the night and he would be utter garbage tomorrow if he didn’t get at least a few hours of sleep.</p><p>But he needed to acknowledge this – it felt important.</p><p>
  <em>He was… in love with Caspar.</em>
</p><p>And not in the juvenile just crushing on someone sort of way. He wasn’t so blinded by his attractions that he couldn’t acknowledge that Caspar was just as flawed and utterly human as Linhardt was himself.</p><p>Sometimes Caspar really was a stubborn idiot… or just plain clueless.</p><p>After discovering something fascinating in the depths of his research, Linhardt often wanted to share his excitement with Caspar. But Caspar was rarely interested, even if he understood what Linhardt was talking about in the first place – which didn’t happen often. He knew that there were parts of himself that he might never get to share with Caspar.</p><p>But… his friend always listened anyway.</p><p>Linhardt coughed and a pink petal fell onto his pillow.</p><p>He groaned, not wanting to be reminded of this sudden, inexplicable change. His mind wouldn’t leave him well enough alone as it was – the addition of more mysteries for him to mull over instead of sinking into restful oblivion was absolutely intolerable.</p><p>
  <em>What did he normally do to fall asleep so easily?</em>
</p><p>This was sort of like asking how his body remembered to keep breathing. Something he was being constantly reminded of recently.</p><p>…</p><p>In the end he gave up, got out of bed, lit one of his lamps, and pulled out his books.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>The tradition of the Garland Moon to give friends or potential lovers a woven crown of white flowers wasn’t something that Linhardt had ever really celebrated before. He always thought it was rather silly, actually. But a few days later the entire Golden Deer class was sporting them – most of them proudly – all day long. None of the braided wreaths were particularly ornate, but they were all well-crafted.</p><p>Linhardt suspected Hilda was the culprit.</p><p>In any case, it opened the floodgates for everyone else to follow suit without the awkwardness of participating in something so childish. Even some of the Knights took part. Spurred on by Byleth’s class, wreaths were gifted between friends of all genders for a change. As popular as she was, Dorothea had a new one to wear almost every other day.</p><p>It was weird seeing her without her signature cap.</p><p>Of course, Dorothea had asked Manuela about Hanahaki the day immediately after discovering what was ailing Linhardt – but as he had expected, their Professor didn’t think it was anything more than a beautifully artistic and tragic storytelling element. True to her word, Dorothea didn’t press the issue with their Professor any further, for which he was grateful.</p><p>
  <em>And somehow… he and Dorothea were friends now.</em>
</p><p>She would sometimes even sit and eat her meals with him and Caspar, like she was then.</p><p>Ashe had received some disturbing news from home and was around less and less as the month progressed. They felt sorry for him, but they weren’t sure how best to help.</p><p>“All I know is that the man who took him in and raised him and his siblings is in some kind of trouble. Ashe spends most of his time in the chapel now – and it would just feel weird to disturb him there, you know?” Caspar spoke quietly to Linhardt and Dorothea as they were finishing their evening meal.</p><p>Ashe hadn’t shown up at all.</p><p>Dorothea was fiddling with her newest crown – this one had white ribbons that dangled off the back and caught in her long, dark hair – her plate lay quite forgotten in front of her. “I think he knows you are here for him, Cassie.”</p><p>Only Dorothea could get away with calling Caspar such a ridiculous name.</p><p>“I know… but it’s hard not being able to just… make it better.” Complained Caspar, pushing his own plate away and leaning forward on his elbows. “Training isn’t the same without him.”</p><p>Dorothea shared a meaningful look with Linhardt over Caspar’s hunched form.</p><p>“I… miss him too.” Linhardt commiserated – finding that he was being perfectly honest for once.</p><p>Ashe was becoming his friend too.</p><p>“Raphael was telling me that his class is heading off someplace near Castle Gaspard for their mission this month. Professor Byleth is going to ask Ashe to go with them.” Caspar revealed. “But I have a weird feeling that things are just going to get worse… not better.”</p><p>Dorothea put a reassuring hand on Caspar’s back. “Maybe so. But you could… I don’t know… give him a good luck charm before he leaves or something. Just in case.”</p><p>“Maybe. Except… the only one I have probably wouldn’t do him any good.” Grumbled Caspar. Linhardt knew he kept a grounding charm on him… for obvious reasons.</p><p>“I’ve never tried charming something before – but I’d be willing to give it a try, if you want.” Linhardt offered, partly for Ashe’s sake and partly so that Caspar would stop looking so miserable.</p><p>Caspar sat up straight. “<em>Really?</em>” He seemed touched.</p><p>“I’ve received charms as gifts before, but I’ve never tried to <em>make</em> one. Why don’t you just buy it?” Suggested Dorothea.</p><p>But Caspar shook his head. “I like Linhardt’s idea – then it can be from both of us!”</p><p>Linhardt really shouldn’t be admiring how cute he looked, given their current conversation.</p><p>Dorothea gave him an odd look over Caspar’s head. Even sitting up straight, they were both still taller than him, so it wasn’t hard to do.</p><p>Linhardt cleared his throat. “But… we would still need something to enchant. From my research, I know that the best charms are usually handmade. And knots make the spell hold fast and last longer.”</p><p>He knew perfectly well what Dorothea’s glance meant. Linhardt ignored her.</p><p>Caspar pointed at Dorothea’s flower crown. “Would <em>that</em> work as a charm?”</p><p>“<em>Hey</em>… hands off.” Dorothea pulled the braided wreath out of Caspar’s reach. “I rather like this one.”</p><p>“I mean, not that one <em>specifically</em>. We could make one. But… I don’t really know how.” Caspar slumped back down, frustrated.</p><p>Linhardt thought it over for a moment. “Actually, it’s kind of perfect.”</p><p>Dorothea put the band of flowers back on her head. “I’ve made… one or two of these before. I could show you how. It isn’t hard, really. But it takes concentration and dexterity – neither of which is really your strong suit, Cassie.”</p><p>“Hey – I sometimes carve stuff out of wood that aren’t half bad. It can’t be that different. Lin can vouch for me.” Caspar looked to Linhardt for back-up.</p><p>Linhardt knew Dorothea was teasing, but he came to Caspar’s defense anyway. “It’s true.”</p><p>Dorothea put her hands up in mock surrender. “I stand corrected. Well then… which flowers are you going to use?”</p><p>Caspar shrugged. “Does it matter?”</p><p>She blinked at him slowly, face blank. “Er… <em>yes</em>, Caspar. I suspect it will matter quite a bit. Right, Lin?”</p><p>Watching the two of them banter back and forth was making Linhardt tired. “Practically speaking, I’m sure it does. Long, bendable stems, the fragility of the flower itself, whether there are thorns or not, what’s in season, and how susceptible it is to absorbing spells… just to start with.”</p><p>This time Dorothea turned and looked rather accusingly at Linhardt. “And, of course, there is the <em>symbolic</em> meaning of each flower. Honestly, Lin – you’re as bad as Caspar.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Asked Caspar, looking confused.</p><p>Dorothea sighed. “A bouquet can be as potent as a sonnet in the right hands. You need to be careful that the flower you pick sends the right message.”</p><p>Linhardt had a sudden thought. “The <em>color</em>… it matters too, doesn’t it.” His eyes locked with Dorothea’s over Caspar’s head again.</p><p>He could tell she understood what he was asking.</p><p>“Yes, Lin. The color matters.” She confirmed.</p><p>The three of them sat in heavy silence for a few moments. Everyone else had left the Mess Hall some time ago.</p><p>…</p><p>“That’s stupid. We should just pick a flower that he likes.” Caspar finally broke the tension that he was probably oblivious to.</p><p>Linhardt smiled. Caspar was right, they were overthinking this. “And… do you happen to know what Ashe would prefer?”</p><p>“Well… <em>no</em>.” Caspar grumbled again.</p><p>Dorothea just shook her head, rather resigned. “Both of you are so… so <em>un-romantic</em>.”</p><p>“Did Raphael say when the Golden Deer would be leaving?” Linhardt asked.</p><p>“In a few days. Not long.” He answered.</p><p>Dorothea sighed deeper this time. “Caspar, why don’t you go check and see if the greenhouse is still open this late. You can ask them what is available, and I’ll help you gather some in the morning. It sounds like we don’t have a lot of time.”</p><p>“Ok!” Given a task and a goal to work towards, Caspar perked right up. “I better hurry before they lock everything up for the night. See you tomorrow!” He scrambled up from the bench and hurried off.</p><p>Linhardt wondered if people ever suffered from emotional whiplash. If so, Caspar was probably immune.</p><p>Dorothea and Linhardt were left alone.</p><p>“You’re going to help him give a wreath to someone else? <em>Really?</em>” Dorothea began.</p><p>Linhardt shrugged. “Caspar just wants to help out a friend.”</p><p>She scooted closer so that they could talk in whispers. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not so sure I see what you see in him, Lin.”</p><p>He knew her words were kindly meant. Linhardt was practically dying for this idiot, after all.</p><p>“You said it yourself – neither of us are romantics. I don’t need his undivided attention to be in love with him.” Linhardt whispered back.</p><p>Dorothea nudged him, perhaps a little smug. “It’s good to hear you say it.”</p><p>Linhardt just hummed, non-committedly.</p><p>…</p><p>“Do you… want to know what they mean?” Dorothea asked, suddenly serious.</p><p>He knew what she was talking about.</p><p>Linhardt considered it. Maybe this was a new branch for his research – but he highly doubted it. “It’s a rare magical disease, Dorothea – I doubt the flowers in my chest have a common and <em>arbitrarily</em> assigned meaning.”</p><p>She looked a little annoyed at his slight. “The language of flowers isn’t something you have to <em>believe</em> in, Linhardt. Think of them as symbols. It is no less arbitrary than letters scribbled on a page.”</p><p>Linhardt worried his bottom lip. “Point taken.” Maybe he was just stalling.</p><p>
  <em>Did he really want to know?</em>
</p><p>“They looked like Camellias.” Dorothea offered.</p><p>He nodded. “They were white before. But ever since that night… they only ever come out pink.”</p><p>Dorothea put her hand over one of Linhardt’s. “Pink Camellias symbolize longing and… unreserved love.”</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>.”</p><p>Well, he wasn’t going to argue with that – even if it was just a coincidence.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>In the end they opted for a simple band of white heather and a charm of protection. Caspar actually did a decent job under Dorothea’s instruction, earning him her praise. Linhardt’s spell was flawless.</p><p>Ashe accepted the gift gratefully and then departed Garreg Mach as an auxiliary unit for the Golden Deer class on their mission. It sounded like a simple job since the Knights had already been dispatched to quell the unrest Lord Lonato and the Western Church were supposedly causing.</p><p>But they didn’t really have time to dwell on it much since they had a mission of their own coming up.</p><p>Whether it was on a whim or by careful design, Manuela placed Caspar and Linhardt quite near one another on the battlefield this time. Caspar’s clumsy attempts to subdue the enemy on their first mission were all but forgotten as Linhardt watched Caspar fight. There was a fluidity about how he moved now that was captivating… as well as deadly.</p><p>Not long into the fight, Petra got cornered by no fault of her own and received a nasty blow to the side of her head. Before the next strike, a Knight used her shield to push Petra out of harm’s way – taking the full force of the enemy’s attack herself.</p><p>Linhardt knew he couldn’t save her – even as he rushed in to help.</p><p>He made sure Petra was stable first, as he was taught to do. And then he made sure the brave woman who had fulfilled her duty was comfortable. She couldn’t speak… not with a wound like that. Linhardt would never forget the look in her eyes when she realized she wasn’t going to make it – when Linhardt’s spells slid right off and dissolved into the growing pool beneath her. When he dropped his bloodstained hands in defeat.</p><p>Her eyes were wide with fear… and pain.</p><p>
  <em>There was so much blood.</em>
</p><p>…</p><p>“Lin?” A familiar voice called.</p><p>He didn’t want to talk to anyone just then. As usual, he had been sick. The fighting had stopped some time ago, but he found his pulse was still racing and his breathing too fast.</p><p>“Linhardt?” came the voice again, softer this time.</p><p>He didn’t want Caspar to see him like this.</p><p>“G-go away.” Linhardt tried to sound firm and refused to look at the other young man.</p><p>“No.” Caspar answered calmly.</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>Caspar walked closer. “No.”</p><p>Linhardt finally looked over at Caspar. There was blood on his gauntlets. He was the one who had swooped in to ensure that Linhardt could get to Petra in time. But he was completely unharmed himself, even without sufficient armor. <em>Stupid grappling kit…</em></p><p>“I j-just need a moment alone.” Linhardt whined. “D-don’t come over here.”</p><p>Caspar ignored his request as he shucked the gauntlets, dropping them on the ground. “I’m not going to leave you alone like this, Lin.”</p><p>There was a familiar fluttering in his chest.</p><p>
  <em>Not now…</em>
</p><p>“I-I’m… I’m fine.” But Linhardt knew that Caspar could see right through him.</p><p>There was a bundle not far away that held all that was left of someone… Linhardt didn’t even know her name. Some of the other Knights had come to collect the body.</p><p>He couldn’t watch as they carried it away.</p><p>“Lin. Look at me.” Caspar requested – his voice uncharacteristically gentle.</p><p>Linhardt began to cough. He couldn’t let Caspar see.</p><p>But Caspar was walking closer.</p><p>Linhardt gagged and spluttered, trying desperately to keep the petals from spilling from his lips. He collapsed into the dirt and covered his mouth. He probably made for a pathetic sight.</p><p>“Hey… hey. <em>Breathe</em>. Just Breathe, Lin.” Caspar had knelt down beside him and was rubbing his back.</p><p>Linhardt quickly stuffed a fistful of petals into his sleeve and tried to relax his chest.</p><p>It took some time before his breathing returned to normal.</p><p>Caspar stayed right by his side.</p><p>…</p><p>“You don’t have to keep doing this, Lin.” Caspar finally broke the silence.</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “You might… <em>need</em> me. Maybe not today… but someday. Just like… just like how I need you.”</p><p>This was as close to the truth as he dared say.</p><p>Quite unexpectedly, Edelgard interrupted whatever Caspar might have said in return. “Good work, you two. Professor Manuela is having us gather back on the main road. You can both rest up after we set up camp.”</p><p>“Understood. We’re on our way.” Caspar answered for both of them.</p><p>Edelgard seemed to hesitate before turning back around and leaving them alone again. Was she going to reprimand him for showing such weakness? Her rhetoric of late suggested that doing so wouldn’t be unlikely. But there was a softness in her eyes that Linhardt hadn’t seen before.</p><p>He wondered why she didn’t follow through.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>When they got back to the monastery, they immediately knew something was wrong. There were more Knights milling around the gates than normal and the atmosphere seemed tense and… <em>bleak</em>.</p><p>Linhardt recognized the young guard on duty outside the reception hall – it was the same man he had saved on their second mission. His face was ashen.</p><p>“What’s happened?” Linhardt asked the man without preamble.</p><p>“Master Linhardt! It’s good to see you return safely.” The guard greeted him kindly.</p><p>Linhardt waited for the man to continue.</p><p>“Er… things are just a little… <em>strained</em> right now. The Knights and the Golden Deer – they were forced to take Lord Lonato down. Word has it that he threatened Lady Rhea herself. We’ve been asked to stay extra vigilant.” The guard recited dutifully.</p><p>“They did <em>what</em>?!” Caspar had overheard. “But… Ashe was with the Golden Deer. He was <em>there</em>!”</p><p>The gatekeeper nodded, sadly. “I hear Professor Byleth is looking after the boy.”</p><p>“But… but…” Caspar protested, still trying to process the news.</p><p>Linhardt wasn’t very good at giving comfort, even though Caspar had done it for him repeatedly since their mission had concluded. He put a tentative hand on Caspar’s shoulder.</p><p>Caspar didn’t even seem to notice it was there.</p><p>Dorothea walked up next, probably hearing how distressed Caspar had become. “<em>Hey</em> – what’s wrong?”</p><p>Linhardt hadn’t seen Caspar cry in years. But a tear escaped his best friend’s eyes and left a clear trail on his cheek. They were all a little dirty and travel worn from the road. Caspar brushed it away angrily.</p><p>“I don’t understand… why… why would they <em>do</em> that?” He choked out, eyes still wet.</p><p>Dorothea looked at the pair of them, back and forth, waiting for an explanation.</p><p>“I’m… I’m going to go see him. <em>I want to see him</em>.” Caspar hurried away, taking the stairs two at a time.</p><p>Linhardt looked forlornly at Caspar’s retreating form.</p><p>
  <em>Should he follow?</em>
</p><p>“Miss… er… Miss Arnault, I’m afraid I gave your friend some distressing news. My apologies.” The guard said, since no one else was talking.</p><p>“They killed Lonato.” Linhardt breathed out simply.</p><p>“You mean… the man that… Ashe’s <em>family</em>…” Dorothea brought a hand up to her mouth with the horrible realization.</p><p>“It’s worse. Ashe probably saw the whole thing. I can’t… I can’t even imagine.” Linhardt shook his head as Dorothea gasped.</p><p>Linhardt turned to the gatekeeper. “Thank you… we… we won’t keep you from your duties.”</p><p>The guard bowed and turned his attention back to observing the returning crowd.</p><p>“Come with me, Lin.” Dorothea held out her hand.</p><p>Linhardt took it. “Where?”</p><p>“We are going to go see Ashe.”</p><p>“Is that… really a good idea? We can’t… we can’t <em>do</em> anything.” Linhardt resisted.</p><p>Dorothea shook her head. “You <em>really</em> need to stop thinking like that, Lin. That’s where Caspar ran off to, isn’t it? He might need us too.”</p><p>Linhardt’s own words played themselves back inside his head.</p><p>
  <em>Caspar might need him.</em>
</p><p>Even if all Linhardt could do was stand at his side.</p><p>…</p><p>And so that’s what he did. He stood next to Caspar as they waited outside Ashe’s room – the two young men speaking to each other in whispers through a small crack in the door.</p><p>Caspar acknowledged Dorothea and Linahrdt’s arrival and assured Ashe that the three of them were all there for him, even though Ashe didn’t open up the door any further.</p><p>Linhard wasn’t good at mourning. He had been distressed at seeing someone die on their mission – not an enemy this time, but an ally. Someone he was supposed to save.</p><p>A lot of it had to do with all the blood.</p><p>But this was different. He had never met Lord Lonato – he had no reason to feel anything for the man. Caspar and Dorothea shed tears for Ashe… but Linhardt’s cheeks remained dry.</p><p>It was still horrible, of course - but...</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>Maybe there was something wrong with him.</em>
</p><p>When it was time to go – Ashe asked to be alone for a while – Caspar didn’t seem offended at Linhardt’s lack of emotion. He seemed grateful that he was there. So maybe Dorothea was right after all.</p><p>Days passed and Ashe eventually went back to class and ate meals in the Mess Hall again. Only, he sat with members of the Golden Deer house most days – since he was apparently one of them now. Claude and Byleth kept a close eye on him. But Caspar obviously missed the way things had been.</p><p>“He only uses his bow now. When we train, I mean.” Caspar mentioned casually as they ate. His eyes were following Ashe’s every movement on the other side of the room. The implication being, of course, that he had stopped sparring with Caspar.</p><p>Linhardt tried putting a hand on Caspar’s arm again – that’s what other people did when they comforted their friends, right? “He’s really good with the bow.”</p><p>Caspar groaned – still no reaction to Linhardt’s touch. “I know. I’m being selfish.”</p><p>“He’s just across the room, Caspar. He’s still our friend.” Linhardt reasoned. Or so he hoped.</p><p>Dorothea was off somewhere, busy flirting with a new catch. It was just the two of them.</p><p>“I <em>know</em>, Lin.” Caspar seemed annoyed.</p><p>Linhardt wasn’t doing this right.</p><p>He dropped his hand on Caspar’s arm and coughed – but not so much that anything came out. “We can’t change what happened.”</p><p>Caspar didn’t reply.</p><p>“I would train with you – but I would be terrible. And I would hate it.” Linhardt offered.</p><p>Caspar finally looked at him. <em>Really</em> looked at him. “Coming from you, Lin – that means a lot. Thanks.”</p><p>“Anytime.” He nodded.</p><p>…</p><p>After they finished eating, Linhardt excused himself, quickly retreating to the safety of his room. He coughed and coughed until the petals were speckled with blood again.</p><p>The petals were coming in clumps now. The burning itch in his chest was more noticeable and his breathing less effective. The only reason no one else had noticed up until then was because Linhardt normally avoided anything strenuous.</p><p>But he wasn’t going to be able to hide it much longer.</p><p>Soon, all of this would be over. None of it would matter anymore.</p><p>He didn’t want to go home… he didn’t want to leave Caspar’s side.</p><p>But seeing how Caspar had cried for Ashe’s loss…</p><p>Linhardt didn’t want to hurt him.</p><p>…</p><p>Dorothea kept encouraging him to fight this.</p><p>But there was nothing to fight.</p><p>No happy ending.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>WHITE CAMELLIA – Friendship and Adoration</p><p>PINK CAMELLIA – Longing and Unreserved Love</p><p>RED CAMELLIA – Love, Passion, and Deep Desire</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Shades of Pink – Blue Sea Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was Caspar’s Birthday.</p><p>Strange how things at the monastery seemed to oscillate so quickly between the severe and the mundane. Linhardt found it difficult to switch back and forth, but Caspar made it look effortless.</p><p>Ashe helped cook up Caspar’s favorite foods, proving that the two of them were still good friends despite all the changes. Ashe’s smile was genuine when Caspar dug into the food with obvious relish.</p><p>Dorothea presented Caspar with a flower wreath of his own – yellow roses that complemented his hair beautifully. The Garland Moon was over, but it was still a sweet gesture. Especially since no one had given him one before.</p><p>Perhaps being short and loud made Caspar less desirable to the girls at the Academy somehow. Linhardt found the idea ridiculous and felt strangely offended on his friend’s behalf. But he also felt rather guilty about it, since he was also pleased to still have Caspar all to himself.</p><p>
  <em>It wasn’t as if Linhardt had ever received one either.</em>
</p><p>Professor Byleth had tea with Caspar in the gardens. Apparently, he did this for everyone on their birthday – but Caspar was still delighted to learn that Byleth had asked around to learn that he was partial to ginger tea.</p><p>Raphael gave Caspar training weights. He stubbornly wore them all day long along with the crown from Dorothea, even though Linhardt could tell he would regret it later.</p><p>His friends knew exactly what to give him – it was touching, really.</p><p>The day was coming to a close and Caspar was in Linhardt’s room – the two of them talking about nothing really. Or rather, Caspar did most of the talking and Linhardt only half listened.</p><p>“Alois says his armor weighs a lot – and he wears it everywhere. Raphael’s sack of rocks sorta makes sense now. It will be a long time before he can afford proper armor of his own. The suit would need to be massive! And all that custom metalwork won’t be cheap.” Caspar was finally taking off his training weights, rubbing the undoubtedly aching muscles beneath.</p><p>Linhardt hummed in agreement.</p><p>“Makes me feel bad, actually. If Professor Manuela keeps helping me advance, I might be ready for some real armor of my own soon – not just the plain, standard-fit stuff they cobble together for missions. My dad already said he would cover it – even though I’m still growing. Could you imagine, all that money spent on something I will outgrow by this time next year? I mean… my brother kept growing until he was nineteen. And then there’s Raph… who lugs around a bag full of rocks.” Caspar mused, his tone growing more serious.</p><p>“Lin… is it wrong to feel bad about growing up the way we did? I didn’t really know that we were rich before. But seeing how Ashe and Raphael can’t just… well, it kind of makes me…” He trailed off.</p><p>Linhardt hadn’t ever really considered this either. “You didn’t choose it, Caspar. None of us did.”</p><p>“But just because it isn’t my fault, it doesn’t mean I have to just accept it – does it?” Caspar asked again.</p><p>Linhardt shrugged but didn’t answer. He really wasn’t the right person to ask.</p><p>“Raph said that these weights were too small for him. Which, you know, I get – he’s a monster. But it was still really nice for him to give them to me.” Caspar took off his wreath and laid down on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. “It was his birthday back during the Harpstring Moon and I didn’t get anything for him then. We were just starting to get to know each other – but still…”</p><p>Slowly, Linhardt got off his bed and started rummaging around in a small trunk. He barely remembered he had it – but it was still there. “Here, Caspar. For your birthday.” Linhardt passed the object unceremoniously over to his friend, who was still on the floor.</p><p>“Woah! Where did you get one of these?!” Caspar examined the flat, oblong-shaped stone carefully.</p><p>Linhardt would have liked to have said that he picked it out specifically for Caspar – that he had spent a fortune on it. But he hadn’t. “My father gave it to me at the start of term. A not-so-subtle hint that I ought to learn how to wield a ‘real’ weapon while I’m here. But I’m never going to use it.”</p><p>“A two-toned whetstone is kinda hard to find, Lin. You could sell it and buy a ton more books. It looks pristine… I’m not sure I’d feel good about using it. Not on my iron gauntlets, anyway. This is for a real weapon – like Thunderbrand. You know… if a Relic even needs sharpening.” Caspar seemed reluctant to keep it.</p><p>But it was just a rock to Linhardt.</p><p>“I know it’s a lame gift. You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.” Linhardt offered – feeling a little foolish. It was all he could think of for a present – something practical.</p><p>Caspar sighed. “I’m just kind of all birthday-ed out, if that makes any sense. I’ve never had so many people make such a fuss over me before. It was nice… but also a little weird. Tell you what – you hang onto this and make good on your offer to spar with me soon and it will be the best present ever. Deal?”</p><p>Linhardt had offered… so he supposed it was only fair. “Deal. But I’ll probably be terrible – and I won’t last very long.” Linhardt relented. To most people it would be rude to refuse a gift, but he wasn’t offended. He would much rather give Caspar something he actually wanted anyway.</p><p>Caspar smiled. “Thanks, Lin. You’re the best.”</p><p>Linhardt returned to his bed and the two of them sat in a comfortable silence for a little while.</p><p>“What do you want for your birthday, Linhardt?” Caspar asked. “It’s only four moons away.”</p><p>The strange burning in Linhardt’s chest reminded him that four months was probably far longer than he had left.</p><p>“Spend a day being lazy with me for once. Maybe not the whole day – or you might explode. But… just what you can.” Teased Linhardt, trying to sound nonchalant.</p><p>It was a nice dream anyway.</p><p>“<em>Huh</em>? We kinda do that already, Lin – in case you haven’t noticed.” Caspar laughed. “Are you sure you wouldn’t want something else?”</p><p>But Linhardt couldn’t think of anything better. He shook his head.</p><p>“I bet the best birthday for you would probably be one where you didn’t have to get out of bed at all. But promise me you’ll try, for a little while at least. Our friends will want to spoil you too, I imagine.” Caspar teased back.</p><p>Linhardt smiled sadly.</p><p>
  <em>Yes, it was a good dream.</em>
</p><p>“Lin, what’s that look for? Did I upset you?” Caspar had noticed.</p><p>But Linhardt couldn’t turn his fake smile into a real one. He couldn’t keep pretending that everything was going to be alright. “No, of course not. Caspar… talking about the future – I’m just worried. Nothing is certain.”</p><p>Caspar took a moment to process this. “I’ve seen your offensive spell training, Lin. You’ve got nothing to worry about. And I’m getting stronger every day. I can protect you.”</p><p>“I know. It isn’t that.” Linhardt answered vaguely.</p><p>“Then what is it?” Asked Caspar, refusing to leave it alone. He wasn’t usually so keen on making Linhardt talk.</p><p>But Linhardt wasn’t ready to tell him. Not on his birthday. “It’s nothing, Caspar. You know me – I think too much, that’s all.”</p><p>Caspar seemed to accept the lie. “If you say so.”</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>Manuela had Linhardt and Caspar participate in two missions this month, but neither of them proved to be very difficult. The Knights could have taken care of both skirmishes easily – the students were really only there to gain experience. Perhaps their Professor had picked out easier missions for them on purpose, given how rough the last few had been.</p><p>But she kept Linhardt and Caspar together out on the field both times. Linhardt was grateful. He liked being able to monitor his friend’s movements to ensure that he was safe. And knowing that he was protecting Linhardt – the main healer for their whole team – probably kept Caspar from acting too rash.</p><p>One or two of the Knights may have noticed Linhardt coughing, however.</p><p>
  <em>Things were… getting worse.</em>
</p><p>The Knights were beginning to trust Linhardt. He would heal everyone as quickly and as efficiently as possible, sometimes only realizing how close he was to his limit a little too late. A limit, Linhardt now understood, based on a capacity that was quickly diminishing rather than expanding with all of this practice.</p><p>After their last fight, Dorothea confronted him about it.</p><p>Linhardt was <em>exhausted</em>.</p><p>“You need to tell someone, Lin.” She whispered as they were breaking camp for the return journey back to Garreg Mach.</p><p>Linhardt was having trouble just packing up all of his gear without breathing heavy. The long trek ahead of them was going to be difficult – if not impossible. “I’ll… be okay.”</p><p>“<em>Linhardt</em>!” Dorothea hissed, demanding his full attention. “I agreed to keep my mouth shut because you said that you would tell someone!”</p><p>Linhardt didn’t answer.</p><p>“If you don’t say something soon – I will. Promise or not.” Dorothea threatened.</p><p>“<em>Fine</em>. Fine. Just… not just yet. Help me… with my pack, won’t you. I… I can’t seem to… I need to…” Linhardt was getting lightheaded. The fluttering in his chest intensifying.</p><p>Dorothea took his bag quickly, understanding the look he was giving her.</p><p>Linhardt wandered a little way away from camp, hoping that no one would hear him. He covered his mouth to stifle the noise and coughed and coughed. Petals fell from his hands and fluttered to the ground. Some moments later when his breathing was under control again, he looked down at the strangely beautiful sight beneath him. There were varying shades of pink littering the ground, some catching in the grass while others began rolling away with the gentle breeze.</p><p>Such small things – there was no indication at all that they might be deadly, how they were slowly killing him.</p><p>Linhardt had managed to fulfill his responsibilities to the class and the Knights this time around… but what about on their next mission? He was becoming a liability.</p><p>As much as he wanted to be there for Caspar, he couldn’t continue to be so selfish. The idea of taking on another mission and not being physically able to help… of people relying on him for aid only for his strength to give out – it was unacceptable.</p><p>He walked back to where Dorothea was waiting for him.</p><p>“Okay. We can tell… Professor Manuela. After we get back.” Linhardt whispered.</p><p>Dorothea hugged him.</p><p>…</p><p>As expected, the journey back was extremely difficult. Linhardt lagged behind his classmates considerably. Most of them didn’t notice, since he was normally in the back anyway – but Dorothea stayed by his side the whole trip. Sometimes giving him worried looks.</p><p>When the monastery finally came into view Linhardt fell to the ground. They had a lot of uphill climbing to go. But he just… couldn’t.</p><p>Caspar noticed.</p><p>“Lin! Hey, buddy – are you okay?” He took Linhardt’s pack from him, seeing how exhausted his friend looked kneeling in the dirt.</p><p>Linhardt didn’t have the breath or the energy to come up with an answer.</p><p>Dorothea covered for him. “He just… overexerted himself in our last fight. I’ll stay with him, Caspar. You go on ahead.”</p><p>But Caspar shook his head. “No way. We’re a team. Come on, Lin – you can ride on my back.”</p><p>“Don’t be… be ridiculous…” Linhardt tried to wave his best friend away, still gasping.</p><p>Caspar didn’t back down.</p><p>“I’m… not… a child.” Linhardt protested some more between rasping breaths.</p><p>“Do you think I <em>can’t</em> do it?” Caspar challenged.</p><p>Linhardt rolled his eyes, trying not to look at Dorothea, who was smiling at the two of them despite everything. “Of course you <em>could</em>. But…” The urge to cough interrupted him. Turning away, he quickly covered his mouth, obscuring any offending petals.</p><p>“You got his pack?” Caspar asked Dorothea, probably handing it over to her.</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p><em>Traitor</em>.</p><p>When Linhardt turned around again, having successfully hidden the petals inside his sleeve once more, Caspar was ready.</p><p>“Climb on, Lin. Or I’ll just carry you up some other way.”</p><p>They were officially at the end of the line now, so no one besides Dorothea witnessed how shakily Linhardt rose from off the ground and obeyed.</p><p>Caspar was warm and smelled of sweat.</p><p>“Raphael keeps telling me I need to eat more. I bet the same could be said for you, Lin. You’re too light.” But Linhardt could feel his friend’s muscles straining to cope with the extra weight.</p><p>Progress up the hill was slow, but Caspar didn’t give up.</p><p>Manuela was waiting for them when they got to the gate. “What’s all this about? Linhardt, are you injured? You should have said something!”</p><p>Caspar let Linhardt down slowly.</p><p>“No, Professor. Just… just went over my limits.” Linhardt lied.</p><p>Dorothea looked daggers at him. “I think he should go to the infirmary anyway, Professor. Just in case.”</p><p>Linhardt wasn’t going to argue.</p><p>“Very well. Come with me then, Linhardt. Thank you for your assistance, Caspar.” Manuela agreed.</p><p>Caspar ruffled Linahrdt’s hair affectionately, even though he was breathing hard. “Go… get better, Lin. I’ll take care… of your stuff.” Dorothea handed over the pack. His smile made something in Linhardt’s chest hurt.</p><p>He just nodded.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>Professor Manuela was notoriously messy in her own affairs, but when it came to her infirmary, everything was kept very clean. She closed the door after he followed her inside and told him to wait on one of the beds while she prepared some of her equipment.</p><p>“I did notice that you seemed a bit… <em>slower</em> than usual, Linhardt. But something tells me this is more than just exhaustion, isn’t it.” She wasn’t asking. “Dorothea was pretty insistent.”</p><p>Linhardt nodded.</p><p>“In that case…” Manuela left what she was preparing on the table, walked over to where Linhardt was sitting and took a seat on the bed opposite him. “Maybe we should talk about it.”</p><p>He had no idea where to begin. After a few seconds of silence, Manuela spoke again.</p><p>“You know, being in my position, I get to learn all kinds of secrets. More than you might think. Sometimes it is something embarrassing. Other times people feel scared that I might get angry – or that I might get them into trouble. And so I’ll tell you what I’ve told all the others – I’m very, <em>very</em> good at keeping secrets.” The Professor put a finger to lips and smiled reassuringly. “Do you believe me?”</p><p>“Maybe.” Linhardt answered honestly.</p><p>Manuela nodded. “That’s fair. So why don’t you tell me what it is you are afraid will happen if you confide in me. And afterwards, if you still don’t want to tell me – I won’t make you.”</p><p>Linhardt looked at the floor. “I don’t want to be sent home.”</p><p>Manuela gently nudged his chin back up so that they were looking eye to eye. “And why would I do that? You’re an important member of my class – and an incredibly gifted mage.”</p><p>“And… what if I… I couldn’t help out with missions anymore. Not because I didn’t want to. But… <em>couldn’t</em>.” Linhardt asked in a whisper.</p><p>The Professor paused before answering. “I’ve bent the rules for you before, Linhardt. If I wasn’t your teacher, it is possible that you would have flunked out of the Academy by now. And while there are limits to how far I can go, I’m still willing to entertain the idea that we could work something else out. How does that sound?”</p><p>Linhardt nodded. “Yes. Er… thank you.”</p><p>Manuela waited for him to continue.</p><p>…</p><p>It was time.</p><p>Instead of answering in words, Linhard reached inside his sleeve and pulled out several slightly wilted flower petals. He offered them up for Manuela to take. She held them in her hand, uncomprehendingly.</p><p>“What am I looking at, Linhardt?” She finally asked.</p><p>“They look like Camellia petals. Pink ones.” He answered simply, knowing that this wasn’t much of an answer.</p><p>Manuela nodded, looking wary. “But there must be something special about them. What is it?”</p><p>“They came from me. Dorothea has seen it happen. I have… I have Hanahaki.” Linhardt whispered, worried that Manuela might not believe him.</p><p>Comprehension seemed to dawn on her. “When Dorothea came to me and asked about it… <em>weeks</em> ago – she knew it was… <em>real</em>. She knew you were…” Manuela didn’t finish. She looked intently at Linhardt, probably hoping that it was all a joke. “Are you <em>sure</em>? Linhardt, if what you say is true, this is very serious.”</p><p>He nodded. “Please don’t send me home.”</p><p>Manuela shook her head. “They are… here at the Academy, aren’t they. The person you… care so much about.”</p><p>“Yes.” Linhardt answered, thankful that she wasn’t asking for a name.</p><p>“Then I won’t send you home. But… I’m not going to just accept this without proof. Linhardt, I need to be sure that it <em>is</em> Hanahaki and not something else – you understand? Have you… asked anyone to try and heal you?”</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “I’ve… I've tried to read everything I can about it. There isn’t much that’s useful. But… I don’t think it works that way, Professor.”</p><p>“I’m a healer, Linhardt. It’s what I do. Please… let me try?” Manuela begged.</p><p>After a few seconds of contemplation, Linhardt finally nodded. “Go ahead.”</p><p>“Lie down on the bed and relax. I’m not going to try and do anything more than examine your chest first. But… there are lots of unknowns here. You can tell me to stop at any time and for any reason. Okay?” Manuela instructed.</p><p>Linhardt complied. There was a tiny glimmer of hope inside him that the Professor would be able to help. But he tried not to feed it, just in case.</p><p>Manuela’s spell started off warm and gentle as it licked across Linhardt’s skin and began descending into his chest. Her eyes were closed in concentration as circles of light spun and sort of sparkled. It was a simple spell, one that shouldn’t have been uncomfortable – but for some reason it <em>disturbed</em> something. Linhardt could feel it – a twisted, thread-like structure that pulsed right along with his heartbeat – a mass that was both foreign and familiar.</p><p>The burning, fluttering feeling of needing to cough overwhelmed him. Suddenly, Linhardt pushed Manuela’s hands away and turned away from her, all too aware of what was coming next.</p><p>He coughed, perhaps even more severely than he had coughed in front of Dorothea. The spasms hurt with how much force his body put behind each one – his gasps more desperate in between each one as he struggled to get enough air past what should have been velvety petals, but which felt more like wads of rough paper. He gagged and retched as the petals cascaded from his mouth onto the bedsheets and the floor beyond. He coughed, over and over again. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as his body desperately tried to expel every obstruction.</p><p>And then, finally – just when Linhardt was positive he would pass out from lack of oxygen, his body gave one final shudder and a damp mass of petals fell beside him in a clump.</p><p>Or not a clump – nor a bud, as the other ones must have been – but a flower in full bloom.</p><p>
  <em>It would have been perfect… if the pink petals weren’t died red with blood.</em>
</p><p>Linhardt looked at the petals around him as his breathing slowly came under control again. He had never coughed up so many at once before. But instead of feeling relief, his chest felt heavy. He slumped back down onto the bed, not caring that there was probably blood and spit dripping down his chin.</p><p>Manuela hadn’t moved. Except both hands were now covering her mouth and tears were streaming down her cheeks. She probably felt responsible.</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “I’m tired.” And seeing his own blood was making him queasy. He brushed the petals off onto the floor, trying not to notice the red smears he was creating on the clean infirmary sheets. He turned away from his Professor again and tried to get comfortable, closing his eyes.</p><p>…</p><p>It took some time for Manuela to regain her voice. “Who… who else knows?”</p><p>Linhardt’s breathing was still too irregular for him to be asleep, even if he kept his eyes shut. It was easier this way, even if he knew the blood was still there. “Just you and Dorothea.”</p><p>“And Caspar?” Because of course she would ask about his best friend.</p><p>“<em>Please</em> don’t tell him.” He begged. Something in how he asked probably gave everything away. But he had already risked it all by telling Manuela about the disease – she probably wouldn’t care about the rest.</p><p>
  <em>Or at least, he desperately hoped that she wouldn’t.</em>
</p><p>“I… understand.” Manuela placed a warm hand on Linhardt’s arm. “Let me make you more comfortable, Linhardt. You can sleep here as long as you need to. We can talk about it later.”</p><p>He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.</p><p>She would keep his secret.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>The Goddess’ Right of Rebirth was only a couple days away and Linhardt was still in the infirmary. Manuela used every herbal remedy she could think of to help slow the progression of the disease and help him heal since she couldn’t risk using her magic again. The bleeding had caused fluid to build up in his lungs, making even regular breathing difficult. But he was finally looking and sounding a little better.</p><p>Linhardt knew – and Manuela must have as well – that the disease wasn’t gone. The clock was still ticking. He recited to the Professor every text he had read that mentioned Hanahaki and made suggestions as to where else they might look for more information – but nothing seemed very promising.</p><p>That is until Professor Manuela offered to travel to Fhirdiad to do some research at the Royal School of Sorcery. Since this was the exact opposite direction of Linhardt’s family estate, he felt that making inquiries about the disease so far away was probably pretty safe. Professor Hanneman and Professor Byleth agreed to help cover her classes during her brief absence.</p><p>She planned to leave right after the Rite of Rebirth under the guise of attending to some personal business. He was grateful for her zeal, of course.</p><p>However, if Linhardt was honest with himself, he didn’t think the trip would amount to much in the end.</p><p>Dorothea visited quite often, sometimes whispering things to Manuela when they thought Linhardt wasn’t paying attention. He knew they both meant well, but…</p><p>All he really cared about was getting to see Caspar.</p><p>His friend seemed very concerned at first when Linhardt didn’t come back from the infirmary or attend any classes. And for the first few days, Linhardt probably looked pretty bad. It took a lot of persuading to convince Caspar that everything was okay – even though things clearly weren’t. Eventually, Caspar believed him… which made Linhardt feel ashamed.</p><p>He tried to tell himself that he was lying to protect Caspar. But that was a lie too.</p><p>It was finally his last day in the infirmary. Soon things would go back to normal… for the most part.</p><p>Or so he hoped.</p><p>“Security is so tight – I don’t think Lady Rhea has anything to worry about. People keep telling me to just enjoy the celebration, but I don’t really feel much like celebrating.” Caspar admitted. He was sitting on the other infirmary bed, just as Manuela had done days before.</p><p>The Professor had excused herself when Caspar had dropped in, so it was just the two of them.</p><p>“Me neither. But at least I’ll be back in my own room by then. I miss my books.” Answered Linhardt, rubbing absently at his chest.</p><p>“I could always bring you some. Surely Professor Manuela wouldn’t mind one or two.” His friend suggested conspiratorially, trying to make Linhardt smile.</p><p>“Maybe.” Linhardt gave Caspar what he wanted.</p><p>…</p><p>“Hey, Lin? Do you… believe in all that stuff about the Goddess and the Rite of Rebirth? My family isn’t very religious.” Caspar whispered.</p><p>Linhardt shrugged. “The stories had to come from somewhere. But there are a lot of differing accounts about so long ago. Knowing for sure what is true and what isn’t… <em>who knows?</em> I prefer to remain undecided. It means I don’t have to argue either side. Too exhausting.”</p><p>Caspar laughed. “That sounds like you.”</p><p>“That doesn’t mean I give both sides equal weight. The more extraordinary the claim, the more extraordinary the evidence required to back it up. But… why do you ask?” Linhardt amended.</p><p>Caspar blushed. “Ashe asked if I wanted to join him in… well, in praying for you.”</p><p>Linhardt blushed too. “That was… thoughtful of him.”</p><p>“I couldn’t quite bring myself to tell him I didn’t know how.” Caspar admitted.</p><p>Linhardt cleared his throat. “I won’t tell him.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Caspar whispered.</p><p>…</p><p>“You’re going to get better, right?” Caspar asked softly after a long moment of silence. Linhardt should have guessed that Caspar was leading up to something serious. He was never this quiet.</p><p>“I’ve told you that already.” Linhardt answered evasively.</p><p>Caspar nodded. “I know. But I want to hear you say it again.”</p><p>
  <em>Linhardt would have to lie again. He would need to look Caspar in the eye and lie…</em>
</p><p>“What if I wasn’t going to get better, Caspar? Would you treat me any different? Because I don’t think I would like that.” Linhardt finally answered.</p><p>Caspar looked crushed. “I… I overheard the Professor talking with Dorothea. The trip she’s planning - it’s for you, isn’t it.”</p><p>Linhardt’s heart sank. “What all did you hear?”</p><p>“Not much. But… Dorothea knows something. She wouldn’t talk to me about it when I asked.” He revealed.</p><p>Linhardt needed a moment.</p><p>…</p><p>“I don’t want things between us to change, Caspar.” Linhardt finally spoke. A different lie, but one that was at least partially true.</p><p>“Should they?” Caspar asked in a whisper.</p><p>Linhardt shook his head but said nothing.</p><p>“Then, will you promise me something?” Caspar reached for Linhardt’s hand. Linhardt let him take it, but he didn’t look up. “Promise me you’re going to fight it. You’re so smart, Lin. Smarter than… whatever it is that you don’t want to talk to me about. I just know it.”</p><p>This is what Dorothea kept asking of him too, Linhardt realized. So what if there wasn’t a cure already printed in some book – a formula that would magically make the flowery tendrils growing in his chest disappear? It might still be impossible…</p><p>
  <em>But if he didn’t even try?</em>
</p><p>“Caspar, I… I won’t give up.” He held onto Caspar’s hand a little tighter.</p><p>Caspar sighed. “That’s what I needed to hear, Lin.”</p><p>…</p><p>Eventually, Linhardt got Caspar to talk to him about how his training was going.</p><p>Caspar leaned back on the second bed and talked for what seemed like hours about his new proficiency with a battleax. He still favored his gauntlets, of course, but Alois had given him some pointers on how to maximize the power of his swing while maintaining better control. And sparring with Raphael with a long-handled weapon made them more evenly matched.</p><p>The enthusiasm in Caspar’s tone was more subdued, but he almost sounded like himself again just before sleep overcame him. As usual, Linhardt didn’t wake him. And Manuela didn’t either when she came back some time later to check up on them.</p><p>Linhardt dutifully drank all of the potions she pushed his way and didn’t complain about the taste for once, since he didn’t want to disturb Caspar.</p><p>He had made a promise.</p><p>…</p><p>Now he just had to figure out how to keep it.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Sharp Thorns – Verdant Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Rite of Rebirth did not go as planned.</p><p>Linhardt had thousands of questions. Not only had Professor Byleth correctly guessed the real intent of the strange threat against the Archbishop, but he had led his class against the insurgents from the Western Church and was revealed to be the rightful wielder of The Sword of the Creator – a Relic thought to have been lost to history.</p><p>However, in the chaotic aftermath, Byleth disappeared from the monastery. Lady Rhea presided over some kind of sham trial for the insurgents who had surrendered and condemned them all to death. They were marched out of Garreg Mach by the Knights, presumably to be executed even as dark, heavy clouds rolled menacingly overhead.</p><p>Too much had happened too quickly – it was hard to keep up.</p><p>Edelgard, who normally looked so calm and regal, seemed as surprised at these revelations as the rest of the Black Eagles – but Linhardt caught a severe look of disgust at how quickly the Church was acting to silence the dissent, whether they were supposedly violent or not. Secretly, he agreed with her. It seemed to Linhardt that all they were really after was the remains of Saint Seiros. It was all such <em>lunacy</em>.</p><p>…</p><p>“Lin… it looks like it’s going to rain… you don’t mind if…” Caspar began to ask in a whisper. They were milling about the Reception Hall along with lots of other students who weren’t quite sure what to do after all that had happened.</p><p>“Yeah… let’s go.” Linhardt led them both to his room. It was great being out of the infirmary, but he wondered how this new development might affect Professor Manuela’s plans to travel north.</p><p>When they were safe inside and the lamps were lit, Linhardt sank gratefully onto his bed. He tired easily – his body still trying to recover from their recent mission and the subsequent days of bedrest.</p><p>Caspar sat at the foot of Linhardt’s bed. “Did any of that make sense to you?”</p><p>“Not really.” Linhardt answered honestly. “There is obviously a lot going on that we don’t know about.” It had been a slap in the face really – forcing him out of his own worries to consider several much larger mysteries.</p><p>“Glad I’m not the only one.” Caspar admitted.</p><p>Linhardt nodded. “I didn’t really think so before but… Rhea is kind of terrifying.”</p><p>“Yeah. I… I don’t know how I should feel about all this. Maybe… maybe we can talk about something else.” Suggested Caspar.</p><p>
  <em>First the Church kills Lord Lonato, and now this?</em>
</p><p>Linhardt slumped further into his bed. It was getting very late – but sleep wasn’t going to come easily. And the dark clouds were making good on their threat of rain. The light taps on the window were growing louder and more frequent.</p><p>“Caspar, you asked me before – back in the infirmary – about… about what I thought about the Goddess. Well, I wasn’t entirely honest with you.” Linhardt fiddled with the bedsheet, smoothing it out unnecessarily.</p><p>“<em>Really</em>? How so?” Caspar seemed surprised.</p><p>Linhardt felt a little silly even bringing it up. But Caspar needed a distraction. “The idea of her… well, she frightens me too, actually.”</p><p>Caspar gave him an odd look. “Ashe says the Goddess is benevolent.”</p><p>“But what reason does she have to be? A being that powerful – of what interest are creatures as small and fragile as you or me? And there are plenty of stories about the Goddess passing judgement, being vengeful – petty even – as a warning for the rest of us to stay in line. Not unlike how Lady Rhea just dealt with the Western Church. Believing in something like that… well, it doesn’t bring me much comfort.” Linhardt continued, shifting the focus of their conversation rather than diverting it away completely.</p><p>Caspar scoffed. “Lin, are you seriously saying you’re afraid that the Goddess would… somehow find you lacking? Or… <em>unworthy</em>? That’s ridiculous. <em>You</em>?”</p><p>“Not exactly. But why is that so hard to imagine?” Linhardt wondered.</p><p>Caspar shook his head. “You don’t want to hurt people, Lin. I know you let others believe it’s because you’re lazy. And maybe you are some. But that isn’t why you shy away from conflict. Not really.”</p><p>Linhardt couldn’t think of what to say in return.</p><p>He was often blunt with his opinions. Linhardt could think of many times where his honesty probably ruffled a few feathers.</p><p>
  <em>But intentionally hurting someone else?</em>
</p><p>No.</p><p>…</p><p>“Besides, I don’t think I could believe in a Goddess that wouldn’t love everything about you.” Caspar added in a whisper.</p><p>Something in Linhardt’s chest lurched.</p><p>…</p><p>“It looks like the rain isn’t going to last long. And no thunder this time. I can go back to my own room now.” Caspar got up off the bed without meeting Linhardt’s gaze. “Goodnight, Lin.”</p><p>“’Nite…” Linhardt managed.</p><p>Caspar let himself out.</p><p>Linhardt tucked himself into his bed properly, still wearing his uniform.</p><p>…</p><p>He wasn’t sure what had just happened.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>Professor Byleth oversaw their morning classes the next day, meaning that Manuela had departed for Fhirdiad just as she had planned despite all of the commotion.</p><p>She must have said something to Byleth before she left because he didn’t get after Linhardt for sleeping through most of the lecture.</p><p>Professor Hanneman wasn’t as patient with him the following day, but the two of them had talked at length about crest research enough outside of normal classes that his disappointment was short lived. Linhardt aced the written assignments regardless.</p><p>But the practical exams were a disaster, as always.</p><p>During training on the third day – which he was unfortunately unable to escape from – Linhardt was paired with Marianne. The two of them hadn’t interacted much before. Her Nosferatu was surprisingly effective for how timid she seemed. After trading spells a few times, it was obvious she would overpower him. But instead of pressing her advantage, she stopped.</p><p>“You aren’t well.” She said without preamble. Marianne was too perceptive for her own good.</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “Nothing you can fix.”</p><p>“Let’s call it a draw then. I don’t want to hurt you.” But she didn’t ask him more about it.</p><p>Strange, since he had eagerly asked her about her Crest when they first met – a secret she apparently still wished to keep hidden.</p><p>
  <em>Perhaps it would be alright to divulge just a little…</em>
</p><p>“To be honest… I’m afraid it is something that <em>nobody</em> can fix.” He added.</p><p>Marianne nodded somberly. “I know how that feels.”</p><p>He just shook his head again. “But what you seem to fear – it isn’t true, Marianne. I know you asked me not to talk about it. But in my research…”</p><p>“Linhardt, I know you mean well – but your reasoning isn’t going to… to just make everything all better.” She interrupted him. “I-I’m sorry… I shouldn’t be so rude.”</p><p>She looked gloomier than ever.</p><p>But maybe she had a point. “Logic doesn’t counter feelings very well, does it.”</p><p>Marianne shook her head.</p><p>“I’m… not very good with feelings.” He admitted.</p><p>The two of them wandered over to the edge of the training grounds. Everyone else was still hard at it. Caspar was trying to take on Lorenz and Ferdinand both at once. It didn’t look like it was going very well.</p><p>They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just observing their classmates.</p><p>…</p><p>“Whatever is ailing you… are you certain it can’t be fixed?” Marianne whispered. She was probably offering to try and heal him, just as Manuela had done.</p><p>“Seems that way.” Linhardt answered simply.</p><p>Marianne looked at him appraisingly. “I am grateful, you know. That you want me to believe everything will… somehow be alright. But… it’s not that simple.”</p><p>Linhardt understood completely. “No… I suppose not. It isn’t for me either.”</p><p>“Would you trade it? Your pain for mine?” Marianne asked suddenly. As if such a thing were possible.</p><p>He considered it.</p><p>Something had happened to Marianne to make her feel this way – to make what seemed to be unfounded worries of misfortune surrounding her crest a reality for her. But he truly believed them to be just that – unfounded.</p><p>Did his own problems seem equally inconsequential to her? She didn’t know what was growing in his chest – had no idea that he would be lucky to last even a few more moons. Marianne knew he felt that she had nothing to worry about – yet she was still offering, even if only to comfort him.</p><p>“I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, Marianne.” He finally answered.</p><p>She looked concerned. “It’s that bad?”</p><p>Linhardt nodded.</p><p>“Everyone keeps telling me I shouldn’t be so afraid. Since coming to Garreg Mach and making friends here – somedays I can almost believe them. Are you afraid, Linhardt?” Asked Marianne in a soft, sympathetic voice.</p><p>He shrugged. “Maybe. <em>Yes</em>.”</p><p>…</p><p>“Is it selfish for me to say that knowing you’re scared too – it makes me feel just a little bit better? That… that I’m not so alone.” She whispered.</p><p>“Not at all.” Answered Linhardt.</p><p>Marianne might have smiled, just a tiny bit. “Thank you, Linhardt. But I also hope that you find… whatever can help make you better.”</p><p>“Thanks.” He said sincerely.</p><p>Their classmates were all gathering around to watch a pair of fighters who were really going at it.</p><p>Even Caspar had stopped training to observe the show.</p><p>Edelgard and Hilda were pushing each other to their limits. Hilda hated training and Edelgard almost never lost her cool. It was a rare sight indeed – and an impressive one at that.</p><p>Recent events must be taking their toll on all of them.</p><p>“Er… I hope no one expects us to patch things up if they overdo it.” Linhardt grumbled.</p><p>But Marianne shook her head. “Professor Byleth is watching over them.”</p><p>And so he was.</p><p>“Professor Byleth is… something special, isn’t he.” His mind was already racing with all of the questions he could ask about the seemingly inscrutable man. Ashe seemed to like him, at least.</p><p>Marianne nodded. “He really is.”</p><p>But further questions died on Linhardt’s lips. He had enough to think about just then.</p><p>So the two of them just sat in companionable silence until training was over.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>It rained a lot – as was to be expected during the Verdant Moon. But for some reason, Caspar didn’t seek Linhardt out again – even when there <em>was</em> thunder and lightning.</p><p>Maybe he didn’t need Linhardt anymore. At least, not like before.</p><p>They still ate most all their meals together – Dorothea, Ashe and sometimes even Raphael joining them. However, every day Professor Manuela was gone was another day of nervous anticipation. Linhardt could tell that Caspar had convinced himself that when their Professor returned, everything would go back to normal.</p><p>That Linhardt would get better.</p><p>But the reality was that he wasn’t getting better. He coughed all the time now. Sometimes a petal or two came out, which was easy enough to hide. When the fluttering got too much to bear, Linhardt excused himself – even in the middle of class – so that no one would see how serious things really were.</p><p>Still, his other classmates were starting to notice.</p><p>The petals were getting darker. He showed one to Dorothea, trying to be discreet about it – but that had been a mistake. She couldn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know – the disease was progressing rapidly. And seeing her cry only made Linhardt feel worse.</p><p>When word of Manuela’s return did finally come a few days later, he almost didn’t want to go see her.</p><p>If she didn’t have a solution – as he suspected she wouldn’t – it meant he had very few options left. He had promised Caspar that he wouldn’t give up… but he had no plan for what to try next. Magical diseases were fickle things. Sometimes the cure was a symbolic gesture, other times rare, expensive herbs were required, but often they were just <em>random</em>. Chanting while walking over a bridge seven times, sleeping with sprigs of holly tied to each bedpost, drinking mead from a bone chalice, or throwing a silver coin into the ocean.</p><p>But the looks Dorothea and Caspar gave him at dinner that evening were too much to bear. He slid his untouched plate over to Raphael and went looking for their Professor.</p><p>She was in the infirmary.</p><p>“Linhardt, there you are.” Manuela must have been expecting him. She closed the door and the two of them sat on the two beds facing each other. Her expression didn’t give a whole lot away.</p><p>“Er… so was your trip a success?” He was too nervous to linger on pleasantries or small talk. Not that he would have indulged in them normally, of course.</p><p>Manuela cocked her head to one side. “To be honest, I’m not sure.”</p><p>Well, her answer was better than crushing disappointment at least.</p><p>“Please explain.”</p><p>“At the Royal School of Sorcery, they had more on Hanahaki than we have here – but it was difficult trying to pry fact from fiction. Eventually I did stumble across several documented cases… and at least one victim may even have recovered. But… I’m sorry, Linhardt, I can only make an educated guess as to how it happened.” She didn’t sound too discouraged though.</p><p>“Go on.” Linhardt prompted.</p><p>Manuela sighed. “Linhardt, I didn’t pry before… but I’m going to have to ask you some questions that might seem… <em>insensitive</em>.”</p><p>Linhardt rolled his eyes. At this point, his dignity was hardly worth worrying over. “I trust you.”</p><p>Manuela put a reassuring hand on his knee. “It’s Caspar, isn’t it.”</p><p>“Yes.” She didn’t really need to ask at this point.</p><p>“Does he know how you feel about him?” Manuela pressed.</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “Not all of it.”</p><p>She sighed again. “But you have reason to believe that he would… reject your feelings?”</p><p>“Why should that matter?” Linhardt inquired.</p><p>
  <em>Of course Caspar would reject them.</em>
</p><p>“Linhardt, ‘coughing up petals’ doesn’t refer to unrequited love for no reason. Does he… well, has he ever expressed interest in someone else?” She asked instead.</p><p>Again, Linhardt shook his head. “I don’t think so.”</p><p>“Then how can you be sure?” Professor Manuela reasoned.</p><p>He needed a moment to formulate a reply. It was hard to explain.</p><p>…</p><p>“Caspar is… <em>happy</em>. And he deserves happiness. Someday he’s going to get married. He will probably have kids that will be just as loud and energetic as he is. He makes friends easily. There is a… a future for someone like him, Professor. The world we live in is kind to people who… who fit in. And it is cruel to those who don’t.”</p><p>However, Manuela shook her head. “But what about <em>his</em> feelings, Linhardt? Besides, I didn’t think you were the kind of person that cared so much about what other people said or did.”</p><p>“I’m not. At least not when it is against me. But against <em>Caspar</em>?” Even the idea of it made him angry. Linhardt rubbed hard at his chest, the fluttering was getting worse.</p><p>“So your reasoning for Caspar not accepting your feelings is… <em>because you don’t want him to</em>?” She asked, a little confused.</p><p>Linhardt repeated what Caspar had said about him after the Rite of Rebirth. “I don’t want to hurt people. Especially not Caspar. And how could… how could being with me <em>like that</em> do anything else?”</p><p>Manuela brought him in close and hugged him.</p><p>“You need to tell him, Linhardt. He needs to know all of it so that he can make that choice. It is… the best chance you have. And even if he doesn’t feel the same way – I know he cares about you enough that he would want to know.” She broke their embrace just enough so that she could look him in the eyes, willing him to understand.</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “<em>That’s your cure</em>?! That if… that if Caspar feels the same way, it will all just… go away?”</p><p>She smiled sadly and nodded – looking a little contrite.</p><p>“That’s insane! You expect me to tell him that… that I’m like this because of how I feel about him? To… make him feel guilty?! To hurt him!” Linhardt didn’t realize he was shouting.</p><p>But Professor Manuela just yelled right back. “Do you honestly think it would hurt him <em>less</em> to watch you… for you to… ?!”</p><p>She couldn’t say it.</p><p>
  <em>Caspar was going to watch Linhardt die.</em>
</p><p>Linhardt coughed up a few petals, not even bothering to try and catch them.</p><p>…</p><p>“I have… arranged for you to stay here this month, Linhardt. For when the rest of the Black Eagles go on their mission, I mean. I promised I wouldn’t send you home – but I must insist that you write to your family. And I… I cannot act against their wishes.” She sat up a little straighter, reminding him of who she was.</p><p>He was feeling spiteful. “And if I refuse?”</p><p>“Then I will write to them myself. As well as inform Lady Rhea.” Professor Manuela threatened.</p><p>She looked like she would do it, too.</p><p>Linhardt had little choice in the matter.</p><p>“May I… may I have a little more time?” Linhardt found that he was tearing up. “<em>Please</em>?”</p><p>He was so sure about what would happen when it all came out.</p><p>Manuela seemed reluctant – but in the end she nodded.</p><p>Linhardt covered his face with his hands, letting the tears fall. “Th-thank you.”</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>Staying at the monastery while his friends were off fighting somewhere else was a lot harder than Linhardt thought it would be. Professor Manuela had recruited Mercedes as an auxiliary unit – filling in for him. The Blue Lions had already completed their mission that moon. Linhardt would have to thank her when they returned. Healing was exhausting work and doing more than one mission in such a short amount of time wasn’t easy.</p><p>To make matters worse, the Golden Deer all left around the same time which meant he didn’t even have Ashe to talk to.</p><p>He had to admit that there <em>was</em> something special about Professor Byleth. Bernadetta had recently requested a transfer into his class which must have been an… <em>uncomfortable</em> development for Manuela at the very least. Perhaps Linhardt’s problems were taking too much of her time and attention. However, with the Golden Deer, Bernadetta had Claude, Ashe, and Ignatz helping to guide her in improving her archery. And they just… fit together somehow.</p><p>Sylvain accompanied them to deal with his disinherited older brother.</p><p>
  <em>As if they needed another emotionally compromising mission…</em>
</p><p>Linhardt ate his meals by himself and only half-heartedly reviewed different texts on magical ailments and their cures, trying to spot some kind of pattern. But he felt like his efforts were in vain.</p><p>His coughing was getting worse. He couldn’t put it off anymore, or Professor Manuela would take matters into her own hands. So Linhardt wrote to his father.</p><p>It took several attempts. That he had contracted a rare magical disease and that he might not make it to his seventeeth birthday wasn’t an easy thing to put in writing, let alone the explanation as to why. He didn’t reveal that it was Caspar. There was no reason to sour his father’s opinion of Count Bergliez even further – or risk that his words eventually made their way back to his best friend before he could explain things to him on his own.</p><p>Because he would have to say <em>something</em>.</p><p>Undoubtedly Linhardt’s father would arrive at Garreg Mach before long and order him into a carriage, regardless of how ill he might be by then, and he would never see Caspar again.</p><p>But… perhaps it would be better that way. Caspar didn’t need to see what would happen next.</p><p>…</p><p>Linhardt dug the little book of horrors back out from a pile of books he never got around to returning to the library. The illustration of the dark-haired girl was just as he remembered it.</p><p>He had made a promise not to give up. But it was a lot easier to imagine fighting it with Caspar by his side. Left alone, Linhardt spent too much time in his own head… ruminating on how impossible it was.</p><p>…</p><p>…</p><p>The Golden Deer came back first.</p><p>And as Linhardt should have guessed, their mission had obviously been terrible. The looks on each of their faces was enough to know that much. Sylvain also carried a Holy Relic of his own now… but he didn’t look at all that happy about it.</p><p>At least Ashe had returned. Linhardt was grateful when the young man chose to sit with him for their evening meal rather than with the rest of the Golden Deer. Even if all he needed was to talk to someone - anyone - who hadn’t been a party to… whatever had happened with Miklan.</p><p>“Hey, Ashe.” Linhardt tried to sound cheerful – but he probably failed.</p><p>Ashe didn’t reply right away. He nodded and began eating silently. Maybe he couldn’t think of something to say that didn’t revolve around recent events.</p><p>Linhardt could use a distraction himself.</p><p>“Professor Manuela said that the library at the Royal School of Sorcery was pretty impressive – have you ever had a chance to see it?” Linhardt tried again.</p><p>“No – but it would be… <em>nice</em>. Maybe after we graduate, I can take my brother and sister.” Ashe seemed grateful. “What did Professor Manuela need all the way in Fhirdiad?”</p><p>“She needed to research… something very specific. Annette and Mercedes would know more about the place. Almost makes me a bit jealous, actually. We don’t have anything like that in the Empire.” Linhardt deflected.</p><p>Ashe just nodded. Obviously, this conversation wasn’t proving to be a very good distraction.</p><p>
  <em>If only Caspar was there with them.</em>
</p><p>They ate together in silence for a while longer.</p><p>“It was bad, wasn’t it.” Linhardt didn’t really have to say it.</p><p>Ashe stopped eating and pushed his plate away. “Lady Rhea… she told us not to talk about it.”</p><p>Linhardt’s curiosity was piqued. “<em>Really</em>? Well then… it’s a good thing I’m not listening. I rarely do. It takes too much effort.”</p><p>Ashe smiled just a little. “Caspar told me you often fall asleep during your conversations together. During the best parts, too.”</p><p>“I’m the worst. In fact, I think I might go to sleep right here. You don’t mind, right?” Linhard pushed his own plate of food away and made himself comfortable, balancing on his elbows – eyes closed.</p><p>Ashe sighed. He would be disobeying an order from the Archbishop. But somehow, Linhardt didn’t think that mattered so much to Ashe anymore.</p><p>“I didn’t know magic could be so… so dangerous. I mean… you use it all the time. And I always assumed that the Holy Relics… well, they must be like White Magic. <em>Selfless</em>. Even if they are weapons. They are supposedly gifts from the Goddess herself, after all. But… now I’m not so sure.” Ashe whispered so quietly, it was almost hard to make out his words from all the other noises in the Mess Hall.</p><p>Linhardt didn’t respond. Plausible deniability and all that.</p><p>Ashe continued. “Apparently Miklan was disinherited because he began rebelling openly against his father – going so far as stealing from the people of the Gautier territory. He was… thrown away really. Sylvain was all their father cared about. I… I can’t imagine anyone being so cruel.”</p><p>All of this Linhardt had already guessed.</p><p>“He stole the Lance of Ruin. That’s what made the Church get involved. A Holy Relic in the hands of a thief. We… we defeated most of his men. But… he refused to back down. Sylvain begged him to stop.” Ashe got choked up.</p><p>Linhardt was glad that his eyes were closed. Seeing Ashe in distress wasn’t something he ever wanted to witness firsthand.</p><p>“Miklan tried to use it.” Ashe’s words were so quiet, Linhardt wasn’t sure he heard correctly.</p><p>There were stories of course, that if someone tried to wield a Divine Weapon without the blessing of the Goddess that they would be struck down. It was why Catherine wouldn’t let Linhardt even touch Thunderbrand – no matter how careful he promised to be with it.</p><p>“It’s hard to explain in words. The Lance… it isn’t White Magic. All of them. They are something else. Something… <em>dangerous</em>.” Ashe scooted a little closer to Linhardt. Hopefully recalling what had happened was helpful – no matter how horrible.</p><p>Linhardt shifted only slightly, still feigning sleep. If his mind wasn’t so awake, he really could drift off like this…</p><p>“It sort of… swallowed him. The Lance, I mean. Thread like tendrils erupted from the crest stone… growing and shifting like sinew until there was nothing left. Except it kept growing bigger and bigger – until it took on the form of… of a huge beast. A black monster.”</p><p>This was new. No wonder Lady Rhea had ordered them to remain silent. Linhardt could guess what happened next.</p><p>Ashe sighed again. “We had to kill it… er… him. We had to. He even turned on his own men. But when we did… the beast retreated back into the Lance. All that was left was… was a corpse.”</p><p>Linhardt didn’t need to hear anymore. He opened his eyes and held a hand out for Ashe to take. It was a small gesture… but Ashe took it gratefully.</p><p>“It turns out sleeping so soon after eating was giving me nightmares.” Linhardt grumbled, trying to sound disinterested.</p><p>Ashe nodded. “You’re shit at listening, Lin.”</p><p>Linhardt held onto Ashe’s hand a little tighter. “I always am. Sorry.”</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>Finally, the rest of the Black Eagles returned to Garreg Mach.</p><p>Even though it was pouring rain, Linhardt was happy. Caspar was back safe and whole. He met up with everyone in the Reception Hall. Dorothea hugged him. Their mission had gone much, much better than the Golden Deer’s had it seemed.</p><p>But everyone was soaked to the bone. They were all eager to make it to their rooms and find dry clothes.</p><p>“Caspar!” Linhardt stood at his best friend’s side, unsure if the young man would welcome a hug just then. Dorothea's hug had already made him wet, so it hardly mattered really.</p><p>
  <em>CRACK! BOOM…</em>
</p><p>Caspar jumped, as he always did when lightning and thunder was so close. Perhaps he always would.</p><p>Linhardt grabbed hold of Caspar’s hand. “Come on, my room is closer.” And Linhardt was glad that Caspar didn’t resist as he led him away from the quickly dispersing crowd.</p><p>When they reached Linhardt’s room, he dug through his belongings for towels and extra blankets. Caspar was shivering. His friend shucked his drenched shirt without any shame, draping it over Linhardt’s desk chair. It wasn’t more skin than he exposed during training in his grappling kit anyway…</p><p>“Thanks, Lin. I… I missed you.” Caspar finally spoke.</p><p>“I missed you too. A lot.” Linhardt answered honestly, tending to his own wet hair.</p><p>
  <em>BOOM…</em>
</p><p>Caspar shuddered – but not from the cold.</p><p>Linhardt smiled fondly. “Did it rain on you all the way back?”</p><p>“Mostly. And it rained just as we arrived too. I think the bandits we were sent to apprehend were just as miserable was we were, to be honest. Not much fight in them.” Caspar shrugged. He had wrapped himself into a cocoon of warm, dry things so that only his eyes and his pink cheeks were visible.</p><p>Linhardt cast a spell for warmth on the room and Caspar sighed gratefully.</p><p>“Ashe will be happy to see you too. But don’t ask him about his mission… it was horrible.” Linhardt revealed.</p><p>“Really? That’s awful!” Caspar wiggled until his hands were free. “What happened?”</p><p>Linhardt knew he shouldn’t say too much. “They had to take down Sylvain’s older brother.”</p><p>Caspar looked shocked. “What is… what’s <em>wrong</em> with people?”</p><p>Linhardt sighed. “I don’t know.”</p><p>He coughed, but only a little.</p><p>“Hey… I’m glad you stayed put, Lin. All this rain wouldn’t have helped you recover.” Caspar commented, as if what ailed him was nothing more than a cold.</p><p>Linhardt didn’t answer, but the look on his face probably said more than he wished.</p><p>“You’re… still fighting it. Right?” Caspar asked, now a little less certain.</p><p>“I want to, Caspar. For you… I want to.” Linhardt revealed somberly.</p><p>…</p><p>Caspar walked over to where Linhardt was sitting on his bed and sat down beside him, still swathed in many layers of fabric. He leaned into him, his head resting on Linhardt’s shoulder.</p><p>“Dorothea said it was serious. She said I should ask you about it. But… I’ve been too scared to, Lin. I… don’t want it to be bad. Please tell me it isn’t.” Caspar whispered.</p><p>But Linhardt couldn’t lie to Caspar anymore.</p><p>“I can’t do that, Caspar.” He whispered back.</p><p>Caspar choked back a sob. He dropped several of his layers on to the bed so that he could embrace Linhardt properly. “I… I think I knew that already.”</p><p>The hug was warm and chaste, even if Caspar was barely dressed. Linhardt could hardly stand it… but he also didn’t want it to end.</p><p>“Professor Manuela made me… write to my father. I… I may not be staying at Garreg Mach much longer.” Linhardt revealed.</p><p>Caspar only held on tighter. “<em>No</em>. I… I don’t want you to go, Lin.”</p><p>Linhardt brushed through Caspar’s course hair – it was still a little damp. “I don’t want to either.”</p><p>Caspar let go just enough so that he could look Linhardt in the eyes. “Then do something about it, Linhardt! <em>Damn it</em>! You… you can figure anything out. I know you can.”</p><p>But Capsar’s pleas didn’t change the facts. “Caspar, I…”</p><p>
  <em>BOOM…</em>
</p><p>Caspar jumped. The rain on the windows got louder.</p><p>Linhardt could feel the fluttering in the chest start to build. He tried to stay calm.</p><p>“What I have… it isn’t so simple… I can’t just…” But he couldn’t find the words.</p><p>Caspar brought his hand up to either side of Linhardt’s face, bringing them in close. “Make it simple for me, Lin. I know I’m <em>stupid</em> – I’m… I’m too dumb for you, Lin. But help me understand anyway.”</p><p>Linhardt brought his own hands up to cover Caspar’s. “You’re not too dumb for me, Caspar.”</p><p>Caspar looked like he might cry. He leaned forward until they were dangerously close together. “I don’t want to lose you.” He whispered.</p><p>Linhardt couldn’t look away from Caspar’s lips. All he had to do was fall forward – it might even seem like an accident.</p><p>“Talk to me, Lin.” Caspar begged.</p><p>The burning in Linhardt’s chest suddenly became unbearable. But he couldn’t push Caspar away. So he ducked down instead, leaning into Caspar’s chest and coughed. His grip on his friend's shoulders grew tight.</p><p>He coughed and coughed, knowing that it wouldn’t be long now and Caspar would understand.</p><p>Petals fluttered between them, spilling onto the bed and floor.</p><p>…</p><p>Ruby red petals that spoke louder than words.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Crimson Flowers – Horsebow Moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>…</p><p>“Lin… <em>what</em>?” Caspar gasped when he realized what was happening. “What <em>is</em> this?”</p><p>But Linhardt was too breathless to reply. He clung to Caspar’s shoulders, head still bowed – gasping for air. He could almost make out Caspar’s heartbeat he was pressed so close.</p><p>“Linhardt! Answer me. Should I go get help?” Caspar sounded like he was beginning to panic.</p><p>“<em>No</em>. No… this isn’t even that bad… I’ve… I’ve had much… worse.” He finally wheezed.</p><p>Caspar pulled Linhardt upright so that they were face to face again. “This happens… all the time?!” He sounded angry.</p><p>Linhardt nodded.</p><p>…</p><p>“What is it?” Caspar finally asked once Linhardt was breathing normally again. He gestured at the petals surrounding them with disgust.</p><p>Unlike with Dorothea and Manuela, he would have to explain everything.</p><p>
  <em>Or… at least most of it.</em>
</p><p>“When it happened the first time, I didn’t know either. I don’t much care for operas.” Linhardt whispered.</p><p>Caspar looked confused. “What does the opera have to do with it?”</p><p>Linhardt sighed. “Nothing really. The disease is called Hanahaki. Playwrights seem to think it is… <em>beautifully tragic</em> – so it shows up in several famous dramas. Most people don’t believe it’s real.”</p><p>“This isn’t very beautiful, Lin. Not if it means… not if its hurting you.” Caspar complained.</p><p>He nodded in agreement. “I don’t quite understand it either.”</p><p>Caspar picked some of the petals up and began looking at them up close.</p><p>“There is… a mass growing in my chest. When it blooms… I cough. The petals aren’t so bad. But… recently I’ve been coughing up full flowers. Camellias.” As if the type of flower they resembled matter to Caspar at all.</p><p>“Why? How did it start? And… how come you can’t make it stop?” Caspar wasn’t going to let Linhardt beat around the bush.</p><p>He sighed.</p><p>
  <em>BOOM…</em>
</p><p>It was still raining heavily outside, but the thunder wasn’t so loud this time.</p><p>Linhardt rearranged how he was sitting on the bed so that he could lay down. He was tired already.</p><p>“Lin?” Caspar prompted, still holding a handful of petals.</p><p>“Lay down with me?” He requested softly – giving Caspar the option to refuse.</p><p>But Caspar joined him willingly – tossing the petals on the floor and brushing the rest away. Soon they were sharing the same pillow.</p><p>Linhardt would have to clean everything up later. <em>Maybe</em>.</p><p>“I should have checked-out that book from the library so you could read about it. It… it seems a little silly really. Hanahaki affects people who… well, who keep their feelings hidden. Feelings that… can’t be returned.” Linhardt hoped Caspar wouldn’t ask too many questions.</p><p>“Nothing about this is silly, either.” Caspar complained again.</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “I know.”</p><p>“What kind of feelings?” Caspar asked in a whisper.</p><p>
  <em>Boom…</em>
</p><p>The thunder was so far away now that Caspar didn’t even seem to notice.</p><p>Linhardt didn’t want to answer that.</p><p>“Why is it affecting <em>you</em>?” Caspar tried a different question.</p><p>Another question he didn’t want to answer.</p><p>“<em>Damn it, Lin</em>! You have to talk to me!” Caspar poked angrily at Linhardt’s side, forcing him to turn until they were face to face again.</p><p>“Caspar… this is really hard.” Linhardt confessed. “If I tell you too much… I can’t take it back. I might… <em>hurt</em> you.”</p><p>Caspar looked confused. “I don’t care! I can deal with pain, Lin. What I can’t deal with is losing my best friend.”</p><p>
  <em>Why did it make more sense when Caspar said it than when Professor Manuela had?</em>
</p><p>…</p><p>“What if I showed you instead?” Linhardt asked in a whisper. It would be a lot faster too – more efficient.</p><p>“Then do it already!” He whined, clearly frustrated.</p><p>Linhardt sighed. “Close your eyes.”</p><p>“But–”</p><p>“Just trust me, Caspar. <em>Please</em>.” Linhardt interrupted Caspar’s protests.</p><p>Reluctantly, Caspar complied.</p><p>“Keep them closed. And… please don’t hate me after.” He whispered.</p><p>“Why would I–”</p><p>But Linhardt’s kiss kept him from finishing. It didn’t last long. And Caspar <em>didn’t </em>keep his eyes closed.</p><p>When Linhardt pulled away, he expected Caspar to yell at him some more.</p><p>What he did not expect was for Caspar to lean forward and kiss him back, one hand coming up to caress the side of his face and card through his hair. This kiss lasted a lot longer.</p><p>…</p><p>“You… weren’t supposed to do that.” Linhardt complained after.</p><p>Caspar still looked confused. “But you kissed me first!”</p><p>Linhardt groaned, even as he slid closer to the man he loved, resting his head on Caspar’s shoulder instead of on the pillow. “Just… think about it. I’m too tired to talk anymore.”</p><p>…</p><p>It took a minute for Caspar to connect the dots.</p><p>“Wait… you mean you didn’t think I would kiss you back… like <em>ever</em>?” He still sounded confused.</p><p>Linhardt shook his head.</p><p>“But you want me to keep kissing you… right?”</p><p>Eventually, Linhardt nodded.</p><p>Caspar pushed Linhardt off of him so that he could sit up and look down at him. “This disease… Hanahaki or whatever – it’s punishing you for… for having feelings for me? Is it because we are both… both…” But he didn’t finish.</p><p>“Maybe that’s part of it. But mostly just because… I really didn’t think you could feel the same way. And to be honest, I’m still not sure what’s going on. Not sure that <em>you</em> know what’s going on either.  I… I <em>want</em> you Caspar. More than anything. You get that, right?” Linhardt sought to clarify.</p><p>Caspar smiled at him without a trace of shame or embarrassment. “Yeah, I do.”</p><p>“Then… why did you… why are you not mad?” Linhardt was confused this time.</p><p>It took a moment for Caspar to gather his thoughts. “I think I’ve always loved you, Linhardt. But I didn’t consider anything more… not until recently. I’m no good at romance. I was happy to accept you – however you wanted it. Just so long as you were still with me.”</p><p>“But you would be giving up a lot… being with me like this.” Linhardt couldn’t help but add in a quiet whisper.</p><p>Caspar rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot, Lin. I’m already with you. And I’m going to keep being with you for as long as you want me to be.”</p><p>Linhardt's chest ached. <em>Did Caspar really understand what he was proposing?</em></p><p>“Kiss me again. Please.” Linhardt asked, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.</p><p>Caspar kissed him, pressing him further into his pillow and stealing his breath away.</p><p>Breath he happened to need just then.</p><p>When they broke apart, Linhardt began coughing. He rolled over and several petals fell onto the mattress beside him. The burning, fluttering in his chest remained.</p><p>…</p><p>“So much for Manuela’s theories.” Linhardt groaned.</p><p>Caspar looked concerned. “Does it hurt?”</p><p>Linhardt experimentally took a few deep breaths. No change. “Yes, Caspar. It hurts. Not so much right now. But… it still hurts.” And he wasn’t just talking about the physical pain.</p><p>Caspar snuggled back in on the bed close behind him. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt – he was probably getting cold by now. “Can we make it stop, Lin?” Suddenly quite serious again.</p><p>“I don’t know.” Linhardt answered as he rubbed at his chest.</p><p>It was getting late. The rain had died down quite a bit, but it was still coming down.</p><p>Caspar kissed the back of his neck. “Can we at least get under the covers?”</p><p>They got up – Caspar even turned out the lights – and the two of them resumed their positions on the bed, just with the blankets on top this time. “Better?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>…</p><p>“Are you really planning to stay here all night?” Linhardt had to ask.</p><p>Caspar poked him in the back, hard. “Of course I am! And tomorrow we are telling Professor Manuela that we have more important things to do than whatever she has planned. We are going to get you better, Lin. So go to sleep.”</p><p>
  <em>Linhardt didn’t know he could love anyone as much as he loved Caspar just then.</em>
</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>…</p><p>Waking up to a bed full of half-naked Caspar wasn’t such a bad thing, Linhardt decided.</p><p>The trek back to the monastery in such awful weather must have been quite draining on the rest of the Black Eagles for Linhardt to have woken first. In fact, if both of them didn’t get a move on they wouldn’t have time for any breakfast. They had skipped dinner the night before, and Caspar’s stomach was rumbling, even as he slept.</p><p>Still, Linhardt couldn’t help but stare in wonder both at the young man at his side and more generally at what all of it might mean. Caspar hadn’t gotten upset – in fact, he seemed hardly bothered by Linhardt’s feelings. Maybe it was all too good to be true.</p><p>While the rain had stopped some time during the night, it was probably still wet and miserable outside. Caspar’s pack was still by the door and his damp clothes hung limply on the back of the desk chair. Linhardt would have to lend Caspar something to wear.</p><p>He carefully extricated himself from the tangled sheets and sat up. There were still petals all over the floor – a stark reminder that as wonderful as that moment might seem, things were still rather dire.</p><p>Linhardt’s breath was still too shallow and his chest ached.</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>Why?</em>
</p><p>Why wasn’t it going away?</p><p>As Linhardt pondered this, Caspar rolled over and groaned. He was waking up.</p><p>“Lin – move over. I need to pee. And I’m starving… why am I <em>starving</em>?” Caspar half-heartedly pushed on Linhardt’s back.</p><p>“Good morning to you too.” Linhardt replied sarcastically. But he really shouldn’t have expected anything else – it was almost as if nothing had changed at all.</p><p>“And I’m cold! Do your warmth spell again.” Caspar rubbed at his bare arms.</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “How about you put clothes on instead? I’m sure I have something that will fit you – at least so you can make it to your own room.”</p><p>Caspar looked around, suddenly acutely aware of where he was. “Oh. Right. You… you kissed me last night.”</p><p>He felt his cheeks grow warm. <em>Was this where things became awkward? Would Caspar take what he said back now – admitting that it had all been just to humor him?</em></p><p>“Hey. Kiss me again?” Caspar asked in a whisper.</p><p>Linhardt was unsure if he had heard correctly. Caspar was looking at him rather expectantly, his own cheeks a little flushed too.</p><p>“Er… maybe later. After breakfast. And after we talk to Professor Manuela.” Linhardt got out of bed and went looking for fresh clothes for the both of them.</p><p>Caspar grumbled. “<em>Fine</em>. You probably have horrible morning breath anyway.”</p><p>Linhardt threw a shirt at him.</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>They found Professor Manuela in their classroom just before the other students started to arrive.</p><p>Linhardt could tell that she suspected that something was different between the two of them. But when Linhardt explained that the disease hadn’t changed even after he had revealed everything to Caspar, she must have assumed the worst. After that, she was surprisingly accommodating to Linhardt’s request to take the morning off - even if she seemed rather confused when Caspar smiled perhaps a little too suggestively on their way back out. But she still let them leave.</p><p>Having no other plan, they went to the library.</p><p>“Are you going to kiss me yet?” Caspar asked in a whisper when they arrived.</p><p>Linhardt rolled his eyes. “Out here in the open? Absolutely not.” He coughed a few times, trying to stifle it behind his hands.</p><p>Caspar frowned. “Why?”</p><p>“I shouldn’t have to explain this, Caspar. Think about what might happen if people saw. I’m already a freak – but lots of people actually seem to <em>like</em> you.” Linhardt hissed back as he started to browse the shelves.</p><p>“<em>What</em>? People like you, Linhardt.” Caspar insisted. “And I don’t care if people see.”</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “You should.”</p><p>
  <em>It could be dangerous.</em>
</p><p>Caspar looked angry. “Since when do you care? Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?!” His voice was quite a bit louder than a whisper this time.</p><p>He hadn’t expected this either. Linhardt gave up looking at the books on the shelf and directed his attention to his ‘best friend’ instead. “Don’t call me that.”</p><p>“Well… what <em>should</em> I call you then? I’m getting really mixed messages from you, Linhardt.” Caspar spat.</p><p>Linhardt was not going to be standing for this conversation. He stooped over and sat down right there on the dusty library floor. “I’m tired.”</p><p>Caspar sat beside him. “You’re always tired.”</p><p>“I mean… I’m tired of trying to figure this out. I’m tired of being sick. <em>Everything</em>.” Linhardt sighed. “But… I’m really happy you’re still here with me.” He coughed again, this time a single petal fell to the floor.</p><p>Caspar reached for his hand. “I told you – I’m staying right here.”</p><p>Linhardt kissed him. It was short and sweet.</p><p>“There. That wasn’t so hard, right?” Caspar looked smug when they pulled apart. “Now… where are we going to start? There has to be books on medicines of all kinds in here, right? It shouldn’t be that hard until we find something.”</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “You just don’t get it, Caspar. I’ve <em>been</em> looking. Manuela went all the way to Fhirdiad looking. This isn’t going to be that easy.”</p><p>“Then tell me what I don’t seem to know, Lin. <em>Because you are going to get better.</em> I won’t accept anything else.” Caspar looked determined.</p><p>This time when Linhardt coughed, quite a few red petals came out.</p><p>Caspar looked like the sight of them hurt him more than they hurt Linhardt.</p><p>“I’ve already told you everything.” Linhardt whispered as he absently rubbed at his burning chest.</p><p>“No, you didn’t. Last night you got tired of explaining and kissed me.” Complained Caspar.</p><p>Linhardt couldn’t help but smile. “Now you’re <em>upset</em> that I kissed you? Talk about mixed messages.”</p><p>Caspar elbowed him in the ribs. “Not funny. Now talk.”</p><p>So this time he told him everything. He talked and talked for what seemed like hours – all about the scary yet strangely beautiful illustration, the story of Pan in Ashe’s book, when Dorothea found him out after a seminar, how magical ailments were so difficult to cure, his struggles in keeping things a secret on missions, and finally everything that Professor Manuela had done to try and help.</p><p>When he was done, his throat was rather parched. Caspar had listened without interruption through all of it. And when it was all out in the open… Linhardt felt a little better. He didn’t like lying to Caspar – and now he didn’t have to anymore.</p><p>But he still coughed up more petals.</p><p>“I see.” Caspar seemed lost in thought.</p><p>…</p><p>“Can I tell you what <em>I</em> saw, Lin? Over the last few months?” Caspar asked eventually.</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>“We arrived at Garreg Mach and I was so excited to start making something of myself. My best friend encouraged me in my training. He was happy when I started making new friends – and I was happy when they became his friends too. He went on mission after mission, even though I could see how difficult it was for him. His strength… it inspired me. It made me want to work even harder so that I could take down anything that might hurt him. But I kept failing. And I began to doubt if I could ever be good enough.” Caspar revealed in a soft whisper.</p><p>Linhardt sought out Caspar’s hand with his own and they both held on tight.</p><p>“But then I found out he was sick. Really sick. And I couldn’t fight that. One night, I was so sure I had messed up big time. I let something slip that I wasn’t sure he would welcome. Because… this friend was more than just a friend to me anymore. I realized that I loved him. Even though he was absolutely infuriating sometimes – like, <em>super</em> frustrating! But I realized that I <em>needed</em> him. And then he <em>kissed</em> me. I… I wanted to do that with him for a while. Maybe more than just kissing, if I’m honest.”</p><p>Caspar gave him a sly smile and Linhardt could feel his cheeks grow warm.</p><p>“Only now this friend – my <em>boyfriend</em> – still thinks he’s all alone. He hasn’t been alone since forever. But he still feels that way, it seems. And… I’m not sure if I can help him. Because this might be something that he has to fix himself. We both already know he’s brilliant. All I can do now is reassure him that he is a lot stronger than he seems to believe.” Caspar concluded, squeezing Linhardt’s hand again.</p><p>Linhardt’s blinked back a few tears. “Okay, Caspar. I might just need… a few minutes to think. To <em>really</em> think. Stay here with me?”</p><p>Caspar rolled his eyes. “Of course.”</p><p>…</p><p>Linhardt closed his eyes.</p><p>There had to be an important detail hidden in everything he had researched.</p><p>
  <em>Something that could spark an idea – illuminate a path to follow…</em>
</p><p>But his mind refused to focus. Instead, it kept jumping to recollections of some recent interactions with his friends – as if they were all connected somehow.</p><p>Ashe fearfully recounting how the Lance of Ruin, a Holy Relic, had transformed Miklan into a Black Beast.</p><p>Dorothea’s tears at seeing how the petals had turned from pink to red.</p><p>Professor Manuela hugging him after traveling all the way to the Kingdom capital and back in hopes of finding something that could save his life.</p><p>Marianne realizing that he was sick by just touching him a few times with her magic during training – and then offering to trade her pain for his.</p><p>The soft look in Edelgard’s eyes after Linhardt declared his resolve to keep fighting for Caspar, even in a moment of weakness.</p><p>Caspar kissing him back.</p><p>…</p><p>All seemingly random.</p><p>But maybe…</p><p>“I can’t seem to make out a pattern.” Linhardt whispered aloud after a long period of silence.</p><p>Caspar shifted next to him, reminding him that he was not alone. “What pattern?” He asked, because of course he wasn’t following Linhardt’s jumbled trail of thought.</p><p>Linhardt opened his eyes. “If there is an answer – I already have all the pieces. There isn’t any more I can research – even if there was time left to seek it out. I need to use what I already know.”</p><p>The fluttering in his chest was getting worse.</p><p>Caspar nodded, uncertain. “Okay. So it’s… like a puzzle?”</p><p>Linhardt nodded, trying to stifle the need to cough. “I just… need… to rearrange the pieces.” He stood up and Caspar followed. He couldn’t have a bad episode in the library – it would draw too much attention. “Walk with me.”</p><p>They stumbled down the corridor and into the empty infirmary. Professor Manuela was probably out on the training grounds by now, wondering where they were. Linhardt closed the door.</p><p>…</p><p>“Don’t watch.” He begged Caspar before he began coughing in earnest.</p><p>But Caspar didn’t turn away when Linhardt fell to his knees and began choking on what must be another fully formed flower. Gagging and gasping as it finally fell from his lips only to have another one swell in his throat – again oddly rough for something so delicate as it scraped its way out and fell to the floor along with fistfuls of loose petals.</p><p>Caspar just kept a tight hold of his hand, probably feeling rather helpless.</p><p>There was blood. Because there was almost always blood now, even if it was hard to make out on the crimson flowers. But it filled his mouth with its metallic taste, dripped down his chin, and speckled the floor with every heaving cough. Linhardt knew that soon, one of the rattling breaths he managed to steal in between blooms might be his last.</p><p>But just as suddenly as it began… it stopped.</p><p>When it became clear that the worst was over, Caspar pulled him in close and he held him gently – like Linhardt might be made of glass. His cheeks were wet.</p><p>“Oh… <em>Linhardt</em>. Please… just breathe. Just keep breathing. Please.” Caspar kept repeating over and over again. “I love you. <em>I love you</em>, Linhardt. Keep breathing.”</p><p>Linhardt held fast to those words.</p><p>…</p><p>The flowering thread-like structure in his chest could <em>not</em> win.</p><p>There had to be a way.</p><p>
  <em>It wasn’t fair!</em>
</p><p>It was… eating him from the inside out.</p><p>Devouring him.</p><p>…</p><p>Not unlike how Ashe had described how the magic of the Lance had grown out of control and swallowed up Miklan – transforming him into something truly terrible.</p><p>…</p><p>Magic.</p><p>It was magic!</p><p>It was <em>Linhardt’s</em> Magic.</p><p>…</p><p>
  <em>He was doing this to himself.</em>
</p><p>“It’s me!” Linhardt gasped in realization.</p><p>Caspar gave him a confused look – probably still a little traumatized by what he had just witnessed.</p><p>…</p><p>Linhardt’s heart was racing. “White Magic. It… it isn’t all logic.” Hadn’t he admitted something similar to Marianne just a few days before.</p><p>
  <em>Logic can’t always counter feelings.</em>
</p><p>“The pattern. What… all the victims of Hanahaki had in common. They all used <em>magic</em>.” Linhardt explained to a baffled Caspar.</p><p>
  <em>Ashe’s trembling hand. Dorothea’s tears. Edelgard’s soft eyes.</em>
</p><p>“It’s me, Caspar. My magic – that’s what’s causing this.” He wanted so badly for Caspar to understand.</p><p>A small glimmer of hope returned to Caspar’s face. “You know how to fix it?!”</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “Not exactly. But this explains why I reacted so badly when Manuela tried to heal me. It was her magic working against mine.”</p><p>“So… you can heal it yourself then?” Caspar suggested.</p><p>Linhardt was quick to correct this misconception. “A broken system can’t heal itself, Caspar.”</p><p>That was basic knowledge for a healer. Linhardt had learned it when he was nine.</p><p>“But you’re not broken, Lin. Just… rearranged. Like a puzzle.” Caspar protested.</p><p>…</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>.”</p><p>…</p><p>“What?” Caspar asked, still looking very flustered.</p><p>“You are a <em>genius</em>!” If Linhardt had the energy – and didn’t still have blood on his lips – he would kiss the young man senseless.</p><p>“I am?” Caspar asked incredulously.</p><p>But any response he might have had died in his throat as the door opened, revealing none other than Professor Manuela… <em>and Linhardt’s father</em>.</p><p>“<em>Linhardt</em>?! My son!” Count Hevring was obviously distressed at the sight of his only child sitting on the floor of the infirmary covered in blood and flowers in the arms of another man. Although, Linhardt wasn’t quite sure which of those things his father found most offensive.</p><p>Manuela had both hands over her mouth, even though she had seen Linhardt this way before – except for the being held in Caspar’s arms part.</p><p>But she <em>had</em> seen Caspar carry Linhardt on his back – which wasn’t all that different, his mind rambled.</p><p>…</p><p>Linhardt could tell he was passing out.</p><p>It sort of happened in slow motion as his father and Professor Manuela both began talking excitedly at the same time - all while advancing hurriedly down upon them.</p><p>Linhardt closed his eyes and let the blackness take him.</p><p>
  <em>He was exhausted.</em>
</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>…</p><p>When Linhardt woke up it was dark outside – although from yet another thunderstorm or because it was late evening, he couldn’t tell.</p><p>He was in the infirmary still, just on one of the beds instead of the floor.</p><p>There was a familiar, unruly mop of hair peeking out from the covers of the bed next to him.</p><p>Linhardt tried to sit up, but even a small rustle of sheets was enough to alert the young man lightly dozing beside him. Caspar sat up with a jolt – rubbing furiously at his eyes.</p><p>“You’re finally awake!” Caspar whispered with relief.</p><p>Linhardt nodded. “How long was I out?”</p><p>“Too long. Your father finally took up Professor Manuela’s suggestion to retire for the night in one of the guest rooms a while ago. She left not long after. You really gave them both a scare.” Answered Caspar.</p><p>He probably had – although, not on purpose. Surprisingly, Caspar seemed fairly calm now.</p><p>“I’m <em>supposed</em> to go get Professor Manuela right now. But I kinda want you all to myself for a minute before she starts doing all her poking and prodding and whatnot. Unless of course you don’t feel well – then I’ll–” But Linhardt interrupted him.</p><p>“I’m fine. Well… not <em>fine</em>. But I want to talk to you too. Now that I’m not bleeding on everything.” Linhardt was grateful for whoever had cleaned him up. A glance at the floor told him that they had been very thorough.</p><p>“Is it gone?” Caspar asked, hopefully.</p><p>Linhardt shook his head. “Not yet. But… I think I know how to take care of it now. Thanks to you.”</p><p>Caspar got out of his bed and carefully snuck into Linhardt’s instead. It was a little snug, but Linhardt wasn’t about to complain. “Yeah… I don’t know how I did that.”</p><p>“Well… in the morning – after I’ve eaten something and have a little more energy – I’ll show you. Deal?” Linhardt offered, smiling.</p><p>Caspar kissed him. “The sooner the better. I don’t think I can handle watching… <em>that</em> happen to you again.”</p><p>Linhardt caressed the side of Caspar’s face.</p><p>Somehow, he knew Caspar didn’t need to worry.</p><p>…</p><p>They were lucky it was Professor Manuela who woke them early the next morning. Linhardt had enough to explain to his father already – he didn’t need to include why Caspar had slept in his bed.</p><p>Not that it wasn’t pretty obvious that he and Caspar were inseparable now.</p><p>He was denied the option of going down to the Mess Hall for breakfast and had to wait for Cyril to bring it up to him. Linhardt was <em>ravenous</em>.</p><p>Then he suffered through even more of Manuela’s ‘poking and prodding’ and a long lecture from his father on how inconvenient Linhardt’s letter had been – insisting that as soon as he could walk, they would be leaving Garreg Mach for the Empire where he would be attended to by dozens of ‘more competent’ healers.</p><p>Linhardt refused.</p><p>Working himself into a rage, his father threatened to disown him.</p><p>Linhardt accepted.</p><p>Manuela took the obviously distraught Count out of the infirmary so that she could talk some sense into him. Linhardt couldn’t remember ever having an actual fight with his father – plenty of disagreements – but nothing like this. He had probably shocked the man by standing up for himself.</p><p>Caspar was there, of course, through all of it.</p><p>“That was a lot louder than I expected.” Linhardt said – surprising himself with how calm he sounded.</p><p>Caspar took his hand. “I told you before – you’re really strong, Lin. Stronger than me.”</p><p>But Linhardt shook his head. “I highly doubt that. But anyway… I told you I would show you something today. Are you ready?”</p><p>“Right now?” Caspar looked at the infirmary door. Manuela and Count Hevring could return at any moment.</p><p>Linhardt shrugged. “Sooner the better, right?”</p><p>Caspar nodded solemnly.</p><p>“Sit beside me – but don’t touch. I’ll let you know when it’s over.” Linhardt instructed.</p><p>He obeyed, looking a little nervous.</p><p>…</p><p>Linhardt closed his eyes.</p><p>The healing spell he had used thousands of times came easily into his mind. Linhardt brought his hands out in front of his chest, palms facing inward. The stance was unfamiliar – but from here on out, he figured everything was going to be new anyway.</p><p>The light came next. He could tell the warm light was brighter than he was used to, even with his eyes closed. The spell was ready.</p><p>Linhardt let it fall.</p><p>The glow should have faded – the energy looping back on itself and reverting into the system from whence it came, leaving everything just as it was when the spell began.</p><p>Only… it didn’t.</p><p>Light pooled in Linhardt’s chest, magic tracing its own tendrils that had amassed unchecked for months – perhaps even years. The complex system of threads that had become tangled and… <em>festered</em>.</p><p>Slowly, Linhardt encouraged it to… <em>rearrange</em> itself.</p><p>Caspar loved him.</p><p>Dorothea loved him.</p><p>Ashe loved him.</p><p>Manuela loved him.</p><p>…</p><p>He was <em>lovable</em>.</p><p>…</p><p>…</p><p>Linhardt breathed in deeply for the first time since coming to Garreg Mach. And then he did it again, just for the sheer pleasure of it.</p><p>His magic’s cry for help had ceased.</p><p>Help had come.</p><p>And with Caspar at his side… he didn’t need to be so afraid.</p><p>…</p><p>When the glow finally faded and he opened his eyes, Manuela and his father were standing in the middle of the room – faces white and mouths open. But he would have to explain later.</p><p>Linhardt turned towards Caspar. “I think I need to take a nap now.”</p><p>Caspar’s eyes were wet. He just nodded.</p><p>“Wake me up for dinner though, won’t you? I want to see our friends later.” Linhardt gave Caspar a brief kiss and lay back down on the bed, the covers pulled up to his chin.</p><p>…</p><p>&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt; </p><p>ONE WEEK LATER</p><p>…</p><p>“So, who are you on search duty with this evening?” Caspar asked, still in his grappling kit and sweaty from training. He was lying on Linhardt’s bed, obviously worn out from sparring.</p><p>Linhardt had skipped training again, but this time it was to write a letter to his father. He had just finished and the two of them were going to head to dinner before taking their turns searching the monastery for Flayn, who had mysteriously disappeared. “Ashe and Hilda – so it shouldn’t be too bad.”</p><p>
  <em>Would they ever go a moon at the monastery without some sort of crisis?</em>
</p><p>“Lucky. I got stuck with Annette and Ferdinand. Can you believe it? It’s always <em>Ferdinand</em>.” Complained Caspar. He didn’t really hate the man, but the two of them did butt heads a lot.</p><p>Linhardt laughed.</p><p>“So… how did the letter come out?” Caspar asked, trying to sound casual.</p><p>“It took a while… but I think I was able to get my feelings across well enough.” Linhardt tried to follow Caspar’s lead. He was putting his writing equipment away when something caught his eye.</p><p>Caspar got off the bed. “Do you think he will answer?”</p><p>“Maybe.” Linhardt said - now distracted. He had mixed feelings about it.</p><p>He didn’t move from his desk.</p><p>Instead, he was examining something.</p><p>…</p><p>“What are you looking at?” Caspar finally asked, obviously impatient to head out.</p><p>It looked like an empty, glass jar. “<em>Nothing</em>. There’s… nothing.” Linhardt whispered.</p><p>“Then can we go? I’m so hungry, I might even eat more than Raph tonight.” Caspar whined.</p><p>Linhardt finally put the small jar down. “Not possible.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah? I bet I could.” Caspar teased.</p><p>“<em>Fine</em>. Just so long as I don’t have to watch.” Linhardt replied, taking his time getting to the door.</p><p>Caspar scowled at him.</p><p>So Linhardt kissed him. “What? Maybe I want to eat with Dorothea. At least she has table manners.”</p><p>“And if I sit next to you anyway?” Caspar asked as they left the dormitories behind and finally started towards the Mess Hall.</p><p>Linhardt sighed. “I guess I’ll survive.”</p><p>…</p><p>“Linhardt?” Caspar whispered conspiratorially as they walked past the gardens.</p><p>“<em>Hmmm</em>?” Now that they were closer and could smell the food, Linhardt was getting rather hungry himself.</p><p>“Love you.” Caspar took Linhardt’s hand as they walked.</p><p>“Yes. I think we’ve established that by now.” But Linhardt couldn’t help but smile.</p><p>Caspar shrugged. “Just reminding you.”</p><p>…</p><p>“I love you too, Caspar.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>THE END</p>
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